by Manuel Iris
May you find healing
before you find a weapon.
May you find a safe place to cry
before you find a weapon.
May your voice find the right words
and the right ears
before you find a weapon.
May love be as available to you
as weapons are in America.
I am talking to you
the deeply sad, the sick,
the neglected, the abused,
the bullied, the ignored,
the violent suicidal.
You are also us,
you come from us
to bite us in the heart
with our own mouth.
You will be us until we take
the hurt from your heart,
the rage from your mind,
the gun from your hands.
May the silence heal
your thirst for revenge,
your heart full of hate,
your head full of plans
and scenarios.
May your hurt
and our wound
stop existing.
And may we stop being devoured
by the monsters we are, the pain
we have created.
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