June 13th, 2016

crumpet2

Today

ORLANDO

How can I speak or sing when not one word
Nor note can fill the silence that is left
When shots and screams are ended? We, bereft
Mourn do not even moan. Stunned. If a bird

Should chirrup, we would hush. Perhaps we dance
As they were dancing. Tango or pavane,
Solemn and sexual. Forget the man
Who shot. Forever. And those who preach prance

Before him after him. And do not hear
Their words malodorous and empty wind.
They have no place. Remember to be kind
For all the dead. And also bleed a tear.

My words are little more than adequate.
A scream of love confronting so much hate.
crumpet2

TODAY

PREACHERS

Who look into the glass and see His Face
Bad angry father with a whip or gun
worship stroke beard where most would scream and run
think of their hatred as a sign of grace

limit unknowable to simple rules
know tiny fraction of what built the stars
bask favoured in large red and sharp-lined cars
grab wages from poor people they think fools

cast out the stranger, do not mourn the dead,
blame sickness and on prisons turn the key.
Wish worst misfortunes upon you and me
and have no loving thought within their head

Leave holy books unread on a high shelf
And hate their neighbour as they should themself
crumpet2

Again

ORLANDO 2

Hole star crack shatter in the mirrored glass
lights dimmed but not as mourning music still
plays as it played when he came into kill
not dance but reap with gun the living grass

young men and women mixed black brown and white
who breathed and danced and suddenly they bled
who lived and laughed until he left them dead
their pride love lasting more than that last night.

And when men came to wash the blood away
friends loves and parents love wailed like a choir
a hundred ringing phones. Killed for desire
concern past death. They will not fade to gray

in memory but speak. ' It was not fair
that I should die in pain for being there.'