Shouldn't there be a persons who should not 
have died hotline? An anonymous number to
call and complain about a loved one's loss?
Or better yet preemptively a web site? Where 
you fill out a form detailing their condition
and the ideal prescription you'll never see?

Presuming of course that you're the only one
Who can decide if they live or die, stay ill,
or better yet convalesce. Except it doesn't
work that way.  Instead perpetually you're 
placed in a queue waiting interminably for an operator 
who'll put you through to a power you'll never see.

Meanwhile you're listening to the hold music
(Please no more Ride of the Valkyries on loop - please!
Suspended now unknown and in-between to you are
the tears salted to your skin, heart bleeds counting
every new bullet casing seeking compensation
revenge enveloped behind the clouds you'll never see.

And afterwards and yes there will be an afterwards,
to this. You'll feel again the familiar scars, you'll 
press lightly against the wound that is and know
the knowing that grief is the love you'd thought would 
never return. And yet it did. And you'll wait more easily
now. Held most tenderly in the healing silence that is love.