Looking down from heaven,
Watching from above,
Seeing you so happy,
I shed tears of love.
Love is all I feel now,
No grief, fear, or pain.
And when I cry for you,
My tears are the rain.
Please don’t cry for me now,
I am happy here.
I can keep an eye on
All that I hold dear.
You are like an angel,
Know this to be true.
For in this paradise,
I have met a few.
This is not my goodbye.
You’ll see me again.
Though I hope not too soon,
I will see you then.
I swear I was an innocent bystander
when the mirrored metallic hotdog crossed the planes
of surreal and subconcious.
I witnessed the takeoff faster than a time touched
woman in a suburban grocery store
when the last carton of milk with that later date is taken
from the mirrored door, reflecting her greed;
carried away to the late night Bingo games
and trips to the Cadillac dealership
and soon to that comfortable wooden box,
methodically placed in the swiss cheese soil.
We cry out,
the little girls with clay knees and puzzle-touched dresses
we cry out,
the little boys with bloated bellies and sunken eyes.
We cry out,
Red Cross, refugee camps, blood diamonds and Darfur.
Limbs become scattered by
a government tattered with Public Service announcements and our safety is now measured
by a color.
We call out to injustice with our broken generation.
struggling identites with wasted souls and plagued memories
of fallen twins and combustible buses.
We call out to injustice.