I am not dead.
Somedays I am angry about their interference in my choice.
My friends and colleagues stare at me and walk by in silence.
My grandson sings “I am a zombie” songs;
My daughter texts  her boyfriend at the dinner table; and
I try not to criticize and enjoy a moment of peace.
I breathe another day.
How did I get here?
To the land of hopelessness;
Daily cases of death by gangs and drive by shootings;
Neglected children with multiple parents and grandparents
And mothers who drink in bars while their children wait in car.
The finger I put in the **** could not steam the flood of
Souls that did not have a safe harbor.
Oh if only I could have shut my mouth and cut out my eyes
Before I learned.
There was another path I could have chosen.