It would have been so easy
after the school shootings,
to leave this planet,
to float unbound, untethered,
to pass the cold, pale moon.
But the Earth, below,
still glowing and shimmering
in wild, rampant beauty,
a scarred mother-ship,
beckoned me to return home,
like a moth to a flame
given its mission,
to forgive, to pray, to mourn,
the souls of the living,
the souls of the dead,
these blazing, luminous threads.
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