Buffalo In May

On this day in May, our hearts are heavy again

On the souls of men, the stains of hate remain

On calls from the grey realms of shadows

Hatred throws love out of the windows.

Suddenly again, a startle from a bang

To become the sway for crows to hang

Ten salts of the earth, delivered on Herod’s salver

But their resolve shall never ever waver.

Somewhere in the wind like the femme fatale

Agape left without a forwarding address

For certain corrupt men have torn her garments

And strip her of her voice while she laments.

Until men turn to ashes, evil must keep its spear.

But at dust to dust’s hour, the stains will reappear

To confess the true ugly colors of force of prate

Let not thy tonsils bring forth vile screams of hate.

Somewhere else in the wind, before bullets run another relay, let us all live in love.