I tried prose tonight
but all I could do was drop
a gravel load of anger
in the middle of the page
this is no time for stones
I tried to be relevant
but all I could do was take
my best shot in the ranting wars
in hopes of getting hits
this is not a competition
I tried to be hopeful
so all I could do was turn
off the media assault and sit
quietly with my helplessness
under the sorrow and stars
I wrote, instead, a poem
an act of faith and futility
a word-shield against real bullets
a whisper in the whirlwind
but Rachel is still weeping
Peace,
Milton
I can hear her weeping clear over here in CA, Milton. Thanks for this one tonight.
Senseless … when will we grow weary of answering with nothing?
It has been a long day. I needed your words to put the day to rest. You were there for me. Thanks Milton.
here too, thank you, all i have is rage…
Sometimes Jim and I read aloud something to each other, usually when someone has put our thoughts into words in a way that reflects them more clearly than we ever could. This was one of those times. Thank you, Milton.
Thank you, Milton. This IS no time for stones. Sigh.
Amen.