.
Your blood falls into the water
The wine of a people
United by wood and twine
.
Walk to him if you can
The disease on his breath
Reaching out over your hands
.
Holding out a blanket
Kindness that’s preached
But never understood by others
.
The crinkles of your eyes, skin darkened
By the sun but bleached over time
A portrait of propaganda not
.
Representation but I’d recognize
Your eyes every day in the face of a father
Who’d lost his child
.
And chose to protect another
I know you didn’t mean to leave so
Early and they’ll all say it was meant
.
To happen
.
But I suppose it’s the memory of your laughter
And your fight for justice through the bodies of others
That resurrects you every day
Lucifer’s Halo 