Maybe he used to be like me.
Shaking his head at the senseless violence.
Someone would do something.
All the while wrapping his arms and his love around his children.
That world, now, is long and forever gone.
Pain is now forever etched onto his face
And, seared into every word
As he cries for his son whom he could not protect and can no longer hold.
And, what about the them?
Barely able to breath
As in desperation they rushed to stop what could not be stopped.
Not before and not then.
They offered their prayers
Even as they were swallowed whole by their own pain.
My heart aches.
But from a distance.
I cannot imagine.