Spent

What is the price of a life?

It seems like we’ve paid

in more

than full

In blood

In body

In bone

Our deaths too egregious to mourn

Our pain promptly processed & posted for commentary

We tried curling into ourselves to give you space

and time

Our submission became your saving grace

I doubt there will be the day we decide

To take back everything you’ve stolen from us

Fore’ we were forged in the midst of toil

Lived in the midst of toil

Thrived in the midst of toil

And our hearts know no language

Other than mercy

But we weren’t born to be BREAKING NEWS

So be honest

How many of our souls

will suffice to fill your belly?

Are you so hollow

that you must swallow

the futures of our brothers & sisters

to fend off the hunger?

Do you know yourself

when you see glimpses of your reflection

in the puddles of our people’s blood?

.

.

.

.

I pray the salt of our mother’s midnight tears

is enough to cleanse the blackness of your hearts

That their howls

evoking images of the “gone too soon”

Haunt your every waking moment

that you wake up in the middle of the night

drenched in cold regret

overwhelmed by the insatiable numbness that comes with great loss