Nomi Shira

I am forced to confront the depths of the layers of human capability for evil,

And my broken heart whispers a plea, rising up in blurry song strings: “How will I survive?”

Whisps of strengthening song travel, returning down the blackened path –

Entering the mildly glowing, broken red: comforting the mourning shards –

Collecting the fragments with its whispers –

“Process while connected to God.”

And that – that is when my heart formulated a mantra, worthy to be a poem in and of itself –