Down On Delridge

Today
We have been given
Grace
We are the gifted

The sun dipped behind this hill
And the wheels kept turning
I made my way
And I called it home

When my breathing 
Interrupted a burning
From bullet holes
Let loose from a gun
In the hands of a boy
Where toys used to be
But this is a game
Where no one is playing

The silence transformed 
Into prayer
I fell
For the fallen
Into sound

The imaginings of a 
Rage turned visceral
Of a chamber now empty
Of fate realized
Timing is everything
And no thing
All the same

When the bullet struck
Two lives lay in peril
One bleeding 
Pleading with death
To come another day
The other with the 
Itchy trigger finger
Now haunted by the 
Birth of terminal disease
Never shall peace return
To the real place
Where truth is transmitted as
Heartbeat
A silence too big
Not be heard

Sirens lit the way
I called it home
Today
We have been given 
Grace
We are the gifted