The Missing Dead (Newtown)

Tonight we light a candle for every empty bed
That shall not know the tiny warmth of the missing dead
And to each scream of anguished grief a prayer will be said
“Now is not the time to speak of the missing dead”

Tonight the world is a breaking heart and our vigil will never end
At least for tonight say a prayer, remember the missing dead
Eyes are sore and swollen to burst and falls are born again
Then drain to the sea entwined with the Mass of the missing dead

Tomorrow, when the wick burns out, when we feel reassure’d
That a divine presence has saved our lot
Nary a word, not even one breath, ever can be said
The world is just an awful place, but not for the missing dead


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