Copyright 2017 Ian Hochberg
At the traffic light on the
broken ghetto street,
urban violence ignited
as poor blacks and whites
seething with rage tore off
their belts and flailed each
other. A young white woman
was smashed by a grappling
hand. I stared, held my head
in my hands, wept and cried
out “No guns, No knives!” as
cutting grief and sadness
overcame me for the new born
infants who entered this world
with no future except to grow
into these tortured souls,
ravaging for themselves on this
shattered turf. How do we get
from a Violent to a Loving Life?
There’s always a choice, even
when it seems there isn’t one.