in the world can bring him back.
We just don’t get to turn the car around,
We can only hope the gates of heavenly peace
receive him, refreshed, invigorated . . . free!
Lost between the gunmen and dead children,
the stale, yet sticky principle of liberty eludes.
It resounds, back in the village,
in her keening
in her womb.
But, it’s behind the city gates he rests.
No doubt waiting patiently, and
Watching as the blue sky dissolves,
expecting us to cross that chasm and bring him back.
He was more than just a victim,
A cautionary tale.
Still, we left him!
May he forgive us:-
the ones who failed to turn the car around.