Well, look at the time. If we die alone
It’s justice that we should. The century
That passed has gone as deep and clear to bone,
And tells us to stifle, hush and bury
Our little homicides of heart and soul
Despite the yawning hole
That cannot be argued away. The child
Is deaf to sloganeering vitriol,
Knowing only life and love, both defiled
By minds divorced from heaven, wedding hell
To queered political
Predilections Cain possessed to murder
His brother’s duty, giving birth to rights
Without responsibility. Love waits,
Though, patient for assent from the mother
To receive mankind’s universal face
Fathered in time and space.
We do not die alone and we know this –
For death by nature cannot turn the key of grace.
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