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In light of recent mass violence, we mourn and reflect.
The patter of rain in early spring The song of birds being sung I’d rather hear then about shootings Or many people in sorrow For their loved ones killed A child’s laughter Or an old friend’s voice Singing a drunken ballad With a gusto no one has seen before The silence of night With a hopeful moon And a shooting star Watching Wishing the night Would never end These I pray for every night But it seems the is weakened With hate And only love could pull us through As we wait for a miracle Our continue to pour out the chalice.
by, LeeAnn Azzopardi
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Δ
By Currents
By Margaret Millmore
By Kevin Dwyer