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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 mans 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

 


Each New Day A Miracle
Copyright Peter Rhebergen
All rights reserved