17 Jan 2016 – Sonnet
You cannot kill your fears with firearms.
Fed by a trigger finger they grow fat.
You dream at night of loved ones come to harm –
at dawn you don the perpetrator’s hat.
Just look at what great magic has been done,
imputing to the many sins of few,
new enemies spring up where once were none.
We rub the lamp of hate and reap our due.
Stare deep into the eyes of those you curse.
What do you see there in that looking glass?
Two souls that shrink from hearing sins rehearsed,
two bloody, weaping victims of the past.
Whose children ARE you? Will your conflicts cease?
God’s children are the souls who strive for peace.