Lady Who Hears the Cries of the World,
Hear my cry
When people are being gunned down in the streets
When the places that are supposed to be safe
Become killing grounds
(Oh spirits of the beloved dead, Pulse, Orlando, I hear you)
When kids shopping and people trying to comply with the law or breaking it in small, forgettable ways
With impunity, with the killer’s expectation that they will not pay for these crimes
(Oh spirits of the beloved dead, Tamir Rice, Eric Garner, all the many black and brown lives snuffed too early by police violence, I hear you.)
Then, Lady, I cry to you
How can I keep compassion in my heart in the face of such brutality?
When the dead cry out for justice, when the streets are filled with rage
When my own heart is sore and burning, how do I ask for compassion?
I do not know the answer
And so I pray to you.