Justice

by Dearbhla O’Reagan

 

an elusive word.

we love our missing acquaintance

until the pain is ours

and rioting is the cure

we will not know.

not ’til the men in suits

hear our screams

our begs

then we will know.

when graveyard grass seeks

the nourishment of our mother’s tears,

when we watch our murderers mourned.

then we may speak.

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Cover photo by T. Chick McClure on Unsplash