Forsaken
A Poem.
Our vast goodness is forsaken
For the sting of sharp terrors.
See human tragedy,
Hear mothers wail,
Speak holy vengeance.
Steeled hearts
Drown in empathy.
Without hope for one another
Our vast goodness is forsaken.
-
The world is full of good people,
Inheriting the hate of a terrible few.
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Powerful, David. Of its time. A call to arms, pen, voice.
The 'sting of sharp terrors'..... from a terrible few.
"The world is full of good people,
Inheriting the hate of a terrible few."
This is so clearly true and so easily forgotten amidst the static. Maybe we can let the hate pass through and dissipate?