I slept long, nineteen or twenty hours
with few interruptions,
and all my plans for yesterday
went awry, and then,
awake, I was caught
on the computer again,
for there had been much killing
of innocents when I had been asleep,
sleeping away the last hours
in the lives of others,
and I had to do something,
even if it was to share the news
and and my anger towards
those who decided to let the slaughter
go on. Thus went eight hours,
then my muse came online,
and the talk of tornadoes, fallen trees,
poems, pope perhaps not as courageous
as they should be, naming
what should be named for the sake
of the dead whose killer's name
should be known, and that,
that was a pleasure as one day
turned to another and the night
is again dark as the summer slowly
wanes. And while I write this,
others will have perished,
for these are dark days,
whatever the season.
18.07.2025
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