Last night
I lay in the comforts of my bed
Under a roof that no one would call a mansion
a space I share with moths, and shrews, and leaking taps
but whose air is filled with peace, and freedom, and choice
On the little screen of my fancy phone,
I watched
across the world
Cruel hearts stone her slender body
the beautiful blue silk of her covering blowing fiercely in the wind
stirring the vigor of the hundreds gathered around her
Until it is as red and limp as she
The label of her exact transgression I do not know
but I suspect its much more innocent
than the smell of my lovers skin that still lingers on my pillow
This is not like me to watch such things
Choose not to be a spectator of the awfulness of this world
Try instead to be a celebrator of the beauty
Tonight my body and heart feel bruised and lost
How do the little stones of love that I toss to my world
so far from hers
change anything?
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