I wish there were a salve that I could pour out over the avenue pietà

Blown glass overflown with

Remedy made of light

An unspooling of the reckless myopia that led to the senseless tragedy

The beloved returned home

Wish.

V. Prayer—

The fragile vessel, the mind, the heart, the words spilled out to the God of Time and Propitiation

I don’t care if I don’t understand the words and can’t see the light

He will come back

Scoop up the Beloved

Call us Home