It’s not OK…

It doesn’t matter that it’s

happened before, it doesn’t

help that others have been

here, it shouldn’t have been

a surprise, but, still, it’s not OK.

The freight train, the howl

of death, the twist of steel,

and the glass – all the glass,

it hurts, and it’s not OK.

There is no consolation,

there are no promises

and no amount of money

that heals this pain,

this healing is loss, not gain,

and, no, it’s not OK.

Relatives call, friends too,

politicians mention us,

and, no, we’re not safe,

and we’re not counting our

blessings, and it couldn’t

have been worse, and,

yes, pray for us; pray for us

because it’s not OK.

We are twisted and torn,

we are soaked through

with tears and sweat

from digging to find

nothing worth saving;

even the memories

have been driven away,

and it’s not OK.

And when it’s all done,

cleaned up and cleared,

remembered and forgotten,

and the new sits on the

grave of the old, and

landscaping replaces the

laughs of the lost,

it still won’t be OK.