Crying

smoke fills the air but there is no burning

it stings the eyes, rasping the throat

but there is nothing to make it stop

there are people who go beyond explaining

shaking in their boots, clinging to faith

they think they have won but they don’t know us

truth be told, we don’t know them

and question facing us all is, “why?”

what do we do when we say, “enough?”

when blood and vengeance are too much

little groups go about their business—

the business of taking lives, burying secrets

we don’t know why, we just know

after the fact, not before

and we proclaim we are the righteous

walking our path, living our lives

and this we know: the spirits are crying