Death awaits
a couple whose love
is built beyond
tabernacle tables.
a woman whose
body is her country,
where she governs
as both priestess
and sovereign.
a man whose arms
forage to feed a nation,
but whose papers
lack the green
of his thumb.
a girl who kneels
five times a day to
worship the East.
a boy whose hands
search deep for wallets,
not guns.
I look into their smiles
to find tar behind teeth,
but instead find
truth residing there
carven of love and care.
So I wonder why
people prop up
Executioners to build
gallows for these
fellows.
I cry out
for justice,
for mercy,
but those faces wear words
dangling from lips
on vulgar wires.
Hateful rhetoric.
I shriek against it,
but even I cannot stop the
Death of a Nation.