prompt #4: last line (Dickens’ Carol)

“God bless us, everyone!”

 

 

So the master said (as did the Master

if you believe in him/it/her/them…)

We echo it with the fall of snowflakes.

 

But we don’t, of course.

Bless, I mean. We say that we believe

(although our actions don’t concur).

 

We rape. We steal. We murder children.

None of this rare. None of it new.

Blessings make the news, in fact.

 

So rare are they a 2-carat Arkansas diamond

that we are struck as if by a glimmering

of fireflies, rising from a damp grave.

 

I want more blessings. Not for me

but for the children who are separated

from their homes, from their lives.

 

For the women recoiling in fear

the men beaten into straight submission

those who wear strength like a torn mask.

 

Please, God/Great Spirit/Universe/Gaia

Bless us.

Everyone.

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