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June 14, 2016 - April 24, 2018
I mourn their loss, these forty-nine the latest of untold lives, unknown and past uncounting their blood, spilled far too freely, is too great our world stands at a loss for the violence that none seem capable of overcoming but more, by far, I mourn the loss of more whose blood still flowing within their veins live their lives tide-like and slowly ebb until death remains where life once stood living for a time but dying slow they bow before the altar of man’s own making not knowing, nor caring, that they die and even though their breath still flows as they live they abuse their gift of God
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Each New Day A Miracle Copyright Peter Rhebergen All rights reserved |