Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

“The monsters may be stronger,” struggled she
whose daughter had been killed, who gulped and said,
“I didn’t know how I’d afford to pay
to bury her, my baby girl.” And then
they cut away to weather and to take
a short commercial break; and we were cut
like fragile glass with alien dismay
her daughter died and we could cut away
with somewhere else’s rain to rinse our gut
and someone else’s gain to help us make
ourselves consumers, mourners not. But when
she’d told the news she’d help to find a way
for other mothers, yes, to bury dead
and murdered kids, she couldn’t stronger be.

what a powerful hit - putting us there, joel

This is an unusual subject for a poem, yet it comes over so well. Classic.

But when
she’d told the news she’d help to find a way
for other mothers, yes, to bury dead
and murdered kids, she couldn’t stronger be.
( The words. wow)