23 May 2017 – Sonnet
(for Aman Ali – and all of my dear Muslim friends!)

A bright new shiny week but still the same ‘ol crap.
Some dirt bag soiling England blows himself to bits –
two dozen children dying. Guess who takes the rap?
A good third of the world now wears the bloody spritz.
A few were drinking coffee when they heard the news,
a few were snuggled innocently down in bed,
and though a few were praying, all must pay their dues
while grieving lands indict them all for slaughtered dead.
What do you say to those who always think the worst,
who point the finger your way for each tragic loss,
who mock your faith, and paint it with the vilest curse –
can healing words be found – and then this chasm cross?
Each heart will spill its contents, to its praise or blame,
but only fools broad-brush you, claiming you’re the same.