A Lament For the Living

Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash.

She’s rent in blood, this land of ours

Her birth a splitting

As we each arrive to touch bare skin to soil

The salt of our blood and the salt of our tears kissing the hollows of her open spaces.


We’re rent in blood, these souls of ours

Our lives a spinning

As God welcomes and we spit in her eye

The righteousness and disdain we proclaim as our holy right to defile sacred faces.


They’re rent in blood, those words of theirs

Their proclamations a splintering

As they refuse to speak for Truth and freedom

The destruction of living light to continue creating their dark and twisted places.


He’s rent in blood, the hurt of him

His life a sputtering

As the pain morphs into something uncontainable

The narrative of violence and hypocrisy in the name of “rights” his deed erases.


She’s rent in blood, this country of ours

Her story a spilling

As grief becomes the learned behavior

The scared and silenced voices of her people the greedy circle of power embraces. 


You’re rent in blood, that body of yours

Your existence a spearing

As the fire spreads far beyond your boundaries

The lost souls cry into the void your silence creates and the wild inferno outraces.


We’re rent in blood.