He came there to **** him The setting sun made the scene tranquil Bathed in light unguarded We were festive… and simple
The shots rang out The shots tore into his chest The shots tore through the village, through the hearts of all who knew him The shots tore away what we were
The rain has washed away the blood But can the rain drown out his wife’s mournful cries Can the rain fall through us Can the rain wash away what we are now
The drug war in Costa Rica has claimed too many lives. On my birthday last year, an assassin walked into the beach bar we were celebrating in and gunned down a local resident. This is the first time my poetry has been able to revisit that night.