“Her explained” brings an empathy
achievable with beers, or God-willing
some spirit, it appears some spit was lacking
spat after spat, turned cheeks for smacking
I dream of the wretched concept of justice
but this would be filling, “Her willing”
“God explained,” truth restrained until irrelevant
what good should be done in your name?
what change? turn the other cheek
is not our suffering the same?
my God
for my love, or what of the transience?
what’s meant, by my knowledge of oblivion
that one test of the billions
who asked not to be?
what of the end? what form of justice bends you into being
that cold bed, eyes closed for fear of seeing
your shell be contagious to those
that once, no, many times made you feel something, anything
something other than the cold places of your hospital bed
they will cry, those that will wish to outlive, in some form
God’s most empathic gift
“where are your tears?” she said
among yours, my love
and from above, I will speak to you
with the turgid comfort of a thunderstorm.
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