Is it a blankness,
a lack, an inability?
How do functioning people
not feel the pain, the shame,
the horror at insanity that engulfs,
destroys hope for noble stories,
soul destiny, journey of humanity?
How do we so self-injure, inure to
stench of rotting murder?
If some one, sage or fool, could explain,
had that overview, that knowledge, how
could such abhorrent consciousness
respond?Where is the confessional, the
congregation of outpouring faith,
caring community, self-help group,
spirit cell to tell our sorrow, our
abreactive truths, release inheld
suffering, escape delusive silence,
find each other to unite
as common strength, open a conduit
to create a kind and vital people
within to honorably live?
