The way we scream,
as if louder is a jackhammer
to the ears.
Our faces, red with effort...
no longer recognizable
as shadows pass across rocky features
now so jagged sharp.
We have surrendered everything to anger,
fueled its fire with inattention
to what really matters.
...surely not this mountain
on which we may now die!
Murder is not worth being right.
Let's cease fire
before our small lives
are etched in stone
above a grave.
