I do not know where love has gone.
Into hiding, I believe, free from harm.
So much anger clothed in love’s costume,
hate hidden from view so I am not consumed
by the true nature of what the costume hides;
all except the hands fisted by my side,
which velvet-suaded gloves still reveal
all the angry violence I could wield,
if I were not so terrified of the pain
I could visit upon others. I refrain.
I refuse to become just like those
who name-call with fake smiles and pose
under crosses, and above crowds,
saying the the ugly hate-filled truth out loud.
I desperately try to maintain my balance.
I believe compassion bears no allowance
to strike back when under attack.
But, turning the other cheek is a trait I truly lack.
Never take a punch and not fight back, I heard dad say.
But, never start the fight, if you can safely walk away.
Is this where we are now, afraid to put up the fists
when the attack is scheduled on government lists?
How long do we wait for the blows to fall?
How far before we are imprisoned inside the wall
of government ordnance and secret police?
How will we ever know any peace?
I do not know where love has gone.
I search and I search for however long
it will take me to find it and hold it tight
while I build strength for the coming fight.
annarino writes 