-Part 1- Can You Breathe In the Dark?

You say you did not murder, but I see through the dark.

The son of the King was killed. The breath of hate is clearly marked.

All hands are now stained red in this colorful battle of hate.

We refute the crimes of history, but constantly recreate.

I murdered twelve people today, that makes thirty this June.

They dared to step in my way, so I led them to their tombs. 

My husband “forgot” our dinner date, so my gun promptly “misfired.”

I seethed, “I feel nothing but hate,” while he quickly expired.

The driver paused at the stoplight, and I rammed him with my truck.

I cursed him out my window, as his last breath was sucked.

The rest were all the same. They inconvenienced me. 

They insulted, disrespected, and even disagreed.

I suffocated with gossip and severed arms with a stare.

I’ve broken bones with a word and drowned with my “Beware!”

They cried, and I whipped. I didn’t care I stole their breath.

My hatred is their poison and I dictated their death.

Now I repent for I helped push us down a path not meant to be.

Our future of tragic carnage is crafted by you and me.

You say, “I have never slain,” but you have murdered in your heart. 

The bodies are piling high as the country tears apart. 

If we choose a road of hatred, then disaster is ahead. 

Innovation, beauty, music, kindness will all be dead.

Our children will live in fear of every face on the street. 

Their potential will be stifled, lives forever incomplete. 

There is no time for joy or growth when life is only angst

With children cowering in the park and the street engulfed by tanks.

This is an emergency. Make this our battle cry:

“Let love rule me and win! Let my hatred die!”

It’s time to choose a different road and tear down every fence.

It’s time to love our enemies and come to our neighbor’s defense. 

Hatred is pregnant with murder, but our love is filled with power.

Disarm your minds of anger. Let the fire of mercy flower.

Protect our children’s futures and rid yourself of strife.

Dear God, Let love explode and bring the dead to life.

If anyone is curious about this poem’s meaning, my inspiration came from Matthew 5:21-25.

Published by Alanna Backen

Hi, I’m Alanna Backen. Welcome to my writing pad. I'm an aspiring author hoping to change the world for the better, one word at a time. Let's make some good fruit!

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