And we again despair;
All point their fingers
And again getting nowhere.
Find the crux of the matter;
The gun is not to blame:
Babe Ruth was the mighty batter—
But it’s not the bat that goes in the Hall of Fame.
‘That place… is strong with the dark side of the Force…
In you must go. ‘
Broken minds untethered
When will we ever know?
The Mind: an ugly, evanescent thing:
Thoughts! Feelings! Emotions! Cognitions!
Better to leave alone;
O, leave me with my superstitions.
Until we get past this stupid fear,
That leads to anger and such undying pain,
To bring mental illness out of the shadows,
It’ll be Columbine, Sandy Hook, Roseburg, again and again and again and…
I want to write something sweet,
I want to write tumbly around fun,
Regale through a truism,
And flourish the end in a pun.
But far I’m too angry
And hurt down to my core:
Kayla Jean Mueller is dead—
How can we bear any more?
ISIL rages in the Levant,
Slums flourish in Mumbai,
All that wasted energy,
And the Rage burning through the why:
“Love thy neighbor.”
“You don’t know my pain.”
The loss, the hurt, the Empty:
Unfulfilled, again and again and again.
Kayla Jean had a slant,
A take on a better way out,
But her candle has found the wind;
And we, now diminished and in doubt,
Try to tamp down lusting revenge;
Praying to grasp a higher view:
What did Kayla know?
What are we going to do?