(After Joseph Fasano, the healers)
For Renee Good and Alex Pretti

All around us the beauty that was
is being leeched and swept away.
Our poets are shot, 
nurses murdered, 
children kidnapped, 
all around us their night extends into day.

And yet gathered -
quietly, softly, unseen yet peacefully,
the silent menders, 
the healers appear,
comforting and holding the lost and disconsolate,
first responders weeping with the weepers.
Gently softly unseen,
these grief keepers,
sow hope into the saddened, fear stained soil,
now thin and bereft, that clings to the icy white clay.

And love silenced at first,
now secretes their seeds,
pushing upward against,
what would crush us all.

Ultimately overcoming -
though pursued in those quiet spaces,
the invisible compassionatas,
heal, hold space and breathe life
to raise love invincible up once more.