Deep inside, pain
never goes away.
Boys are burning on sofas
or hitting their heads
in shallow watery quarries.
Small girls open like broken blossoms -
one killed herself because of you,
I'm certain of it.
Tigers are increasing in Nepal.
Flame colored,
one swims a river,
strikes grass gatherers,
kills a mother, brother, daughter.
Still
wondering if killing
is in our bones.
Will a man
ever
begin
to turn upon himself
from within,
try to rinse out sins
like a child's
blood spotted cloth,
or become a moth aflame,
find a waterborne accident?
I was thinking about these deaths and injuries this morning.
I realized I don't wish
human predators dead,
but burning,
sinking,
terrorizing dreams
instead.
