there is violence
at flash points south,
a time of marches and indignation,
of martyrdom and mayhem,
a young man tearfully eulogizing:
"i am tired of funerals,
i don't want no more funerals..."
and there is a war somewhere faraway
mushrooming on
a half-buried map
a friday in november.
a motorcade proceeds
under an endless texas sky,
then gunshots are fired -
there's a fleeting glimpse of death...
shock...distress...
time leaps and lapses,
reality struggles
while the brain chews fiction,
unwilling to process,
unable to comprehend
the widow's clothes change
from blood-stained pink
to somber black
she radiates dignity,
strength, character...
gliding into history
with her veiled grief,
her purposeful stride
we bow at such majesty,
such inner grace
we are transformed
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC
there is violence
at flash points south,
a time of marches and indignation,
of martyrdom and mayhem,
a young man tearfully eulogizing:
"i am tired of funerals,
i don't want no more funerals..."
and there is a war somewhere faraway
mushrooming on
a half-buried map
a friday in november.
a motorcade proceeds
under an endless texas sky,
then gunshots are fired -
there's a fleeting glimpse of death...
shock...distress...
time leaps and lapses,
reality struggles
while the brain chews fiction,
unwilling to process,
unable to comprehend
the widow's clothes change
from blood-stained pink
to somber black
she radiates dignity,
strength, character...
gliding into history
with her veiled grief,
her purposeful stride
we bow at such majesty,
such inner grace
we are transformed