I think of the mother
Whose baby has gone
I think of the father
Who’s trying to be strong
I think of the surgeon
Who toiled through the night
And the nurse holding tears back
Til the moment was right
I think of the door
Opened wide to the world
Of the stranger whose words
Calmed a scared little girl
I think of the taxi cab
Waiving the fares
To reunite families
In a city that cares
I think of the kettle
That worked overtime
For emergency services
On the front line
I think of the Vigil
Every race, colour, creed
Of how shrapnel is colourblind
How it’s Red we all bleed
I think of the candles
They lit in the square
Of the queues at the blood bank
And the lives saved in there
I think of one homeless man’s
Ocean of calm
As he cradled a woman
Who died in his arms
I think of all this
I will not take the bait
My heart’s full of love
I have no room for hate.
Joe Solo 
Reblogged this on Autumn Leaves and commented:
Joe Solo (for those who don’t know) is a musician and poet with a burning commitment to social justice, and a great deal of compassion. If you have the chance to go to one of his gigs, do go – he’s good!
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