Face of terror was chasing you in the dreams
and violence made you sick of the evil designs.
We must unpack our grief.
Hurts were huddled under the smiles;
times were stupefying.
I grieve for the dead prophet,
spread – eagled on road.
It had been a memorial death
fighting the ugly machinations the days had planted.
A calculated murder of mighty truth had taken place.
Again a flaming head seeks revenge.
Violence does not cease.
Greed was the essence.
The town was full of howling.
There was civil war amongst the wailing windows.
My heart aches,
I didn’t belong to this profile of naked wolves.
