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OUR PORTION (The 10th Violent Verse)

When I think of the families torn up,
leaving their trust at the gates of horror,
unable to find the pathway from loss,
when I think of that unbearable defeat,
that howling ache, no words can mend,
no amount of joy-filled photos puts right.

Violent fury is the scrape of the serpent and
lends no favors upon the abused. Serenity,
if not within reach for the whole world,
might nod a favor upon a small portion,
smiles letting go their fissured frame,
laughter feeling safe again.



© 2009 mrp/thepoetryman


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