just might indicate
the need for less words,
and deeper silence,
reverence born of the pain
we carry in our psychic nap sacks
overflowing the innocent blood
of the people’s land we stole.

And now we live on the backs of the brave,
misguided, buried dead who gave, still give,
their lives in the name of freedom,
who were taught to believe by a mighty few
that war is a necessary evil.

And now we are all overcome,
by a fierce and thorny pain,
born of the Light spilling
out from the crack of a broken hallelujah.

And the tears, our tears,
flow without ceasing
an endless, watery, Our Father
because we,
we, are the tears,

falling,
falling,
falling,

from the eyes of God.

~ pe kaplan