This Place

We come to this place too often

Makeshift memorials and coffins

From Dantrell to Derrion

From Hadiya to Trayvon

We are losing ground So many babies

Heaven bound

Leaders and clergy cram for a solution

To age old city pollution

But each time they hold gun turn-in rallies

A body turns up on a street or in an alley

There is no refuge from the morning and evening news

I turn on the radio and there is even more abuse

But I have stopped saying "what's next" and started saying

"Thank you, Lord, you know what's best"

One day in the by and by it will all unravel

long after any verdict is reached and long

after the echoing sound of the gavel.