This is the last poem
The month’s end

They lie in the rubble
As I take it all in
Crumbling figurines
Little toy soldiers
Falling
Little rag doll children
Dying

The wind does not whistle
Beautifully
Only mournful sobs
Sound here in this horror show

There is not enough power
In my heart to stop
What so many have started
So I shatter it on purpose
Break each beating ventricle
Into a thousand plus jagged parts

Red with life’s blood
Wet with life’s love
I pass out each piece
Giving as much power as I have
To give
Morbid love I know

Fractured and scattered among the nightmare
A song rings
The saint in me sings
Give it all to them

The bandaged people cringe and crawl
To them I cry
I love you all