Can you feel the piercing pull
as the projectile runs you through
spitting splatter art
across the stone hearth?

Can you see the shattered hearts,
wounds wrapped in cloth
unable to stem
the tides of blood
that won't stay within?

Can you dream of the darkness
that others endured,
the struggles they pushed through
as they interred
the ones they love?

Can you look a stranger
right in the eyes
and without lies
tell him or her
that you care
and that they are heard?

Can you be kind
one time,
then another,
then another
till compassion
becomes
the path
that you run
around and around
in an almost infinite
circle of intent
till you are buried
in the ground?

Can you be
a decent
human being,
please?