a dirty needle,
a sawed-off shotgun,
and a stolen car...
a one way trip to hell
on a dead end road...
a mother weeps
by an unmarked grave...
no one came to the church.
the guilty and the innocent
both suffer and die...
sometimes its hard to say
which is which...
when the sun doesnt come up
in the morning sky.... and
it's raining darkness all around...
who casts the final judgement?
and who grieves?...
when a mother's son
kills a mother's son?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the mother's grieve for their sons, and those of us who remember the birth of potential life grieve with them