We are,
the echoes of a large sound
rippling across a vast
emptiness.
sagging tits
of 17 children
a broken home
and a stone.
two dreadlocks
duty bound and defiant
forgotten in an unmarked
grave.
magic water
sprinkled on bodies
defying metal
bullets.
six tweets
a flood of abuse
and sleepless
nights.
3 dead bodies
a chapel
and an empty parking spot.
the ripple of a bullet
3 dead bodies
and indifference.
a voice speaking
hear its own
silence.
a breaking of that silence,
here.