The river of peace
could flow again
but war makes
a harsh dry bed
a stopping point
where air is still
There is no win
just dead ends
The river of peace
shall only flow
when we learn
that love is the current
which carries it along
These shoes fit me fairly well
I’ve worn them for a time
The shoes on your feet
very different from mine
Never have I tried yours on
neither have you mine, in kind
You know not the condition of my sole(s)
nor I, whether your walk might lead to gold
I will gladly tell you of my shoes
the journey, the comfort, the wear and tear
I too, will listen if, of your shoes
you choose some tales you dare to share
We then, will learn of each other’s trudging
and thus avoid a quickness in judging
They’re killing our babies
They’re KILLING our babies
those multi-bulleted, semi-automatic
man-made, politician pocket-lining
machines; getting into the unheld hands
of the broken-spirited, empty-hearted
spice-laden, alcohol-filled, mind-altered
once-upon-a-time hopefully-optimistic
turned love-voided, sadly-desperate
forever-angered, permanently-deranged
Don’t kill our babies
DON’T KILL our babies
They’ve just left our arms
to grow and learn
meet new friends
We tell them it will be okay
they’ll have fun
as they cling to our legs
fearing the changes
fearing the strangers
as we leave them
They’re killing our babies
THEY’RE KILLING OUR BABIES
but tomorrow someone will
still sell these murder weapons
and the next day
AND THE NEXT DAY
and the next
Why aren’t we storming the Capitol
screaming out the despair of our nation
that THEY’RE KILLING OUR BABIES
THEY’RE KILLING OUR BABIES
THEY’RE GOING AWAY
TAKE THESE GUNS AWAY
THEY MUST BE STOPPED
FROM KILLING OUR BABIES