A Collective Cry

A Collective Cry

Disconnecting from disturbing distractions, dystopian diatribes ranting,

heavy-metal grating against ear-blasting apocalyptic doom, sonic boom,

blue tooth blaring and staccato studio lights blazing as electronic pundits

and prophets haze, masquerading in cosmic cosmetics, criticizing, and

complaining. Saving sanity, I unplug from breaking bulletins of mobs

gone mad, ill-omened acronyms, havoc, and hatred, weary of ceaseless

screeching, preaching, and propaganda.

 

Silence surrounds me on this dark night, a night like many others when

hope is but a sliver moon or sunlight shaft in morose, overcast skies,

my heart burdened, my cry, collective, as, secluded, I meditate upon

those gone too soon, family, friends, and strangers, lured and snatched

away by insidious assassins, slayed and slaughtered, bruised and beaten,

murderous methods mercilessly, relentlessly rampaging and raping all

boundaries and borders, brutal sprees short-changing life, culminating

in costly tolls of destruction and death.

 

Never will they return, those brave souls who fought against enemies

unknown, shrouded now, they, obscured from my view, are but fading

flashes in dusk, in dawn, eternal nomads roaming endlessly, far away,

memories the only survivors in the cavern of my heart, lingering, they

are gone, gone too soon.

 

The silence of night grows deafening, entrenching, suffocating, and

entombing me in an unnatural stillness invading. A collective sigh,

a collective cry for those I know, and those I’ll never know, but for

their stories left behind, too soon, too gone, to tell, I cry in silence,

unheard and disconnected.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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