O Lord!
Someone, stop it!
The thing I would end if I could but I can’t
because I am not in control. God,
help us. Why do you let this be?

For I have heard the roar of an inhale exhale human distress
twice. I have held despair that can’t get up
off my lap, have seen anguish,
and I do not have I can I should
not, not. I, why-
Some things were not meant to be,
and I must not experience this-
this deepest incision, most personal wound,
and who pried my eyes open?

To the pain, the shoving of a knife,
and I cannot stand it,
and the wounded will comfort me

when I stop stalling and heave- Who needs poetry
when they have known grief?

I can’t I won’t I cry my eyes
cannot unsee, ears unhear. Did the numb
lose sensation at a lesser pain?

Surely so, surely so,
for I will choke on sobs ‘til my
last drops of oxygen.