When we can’t accept

Let the pain out.

Wring those hands,

wring them hard.

The values we claim,

the rights we expect,

the freedoms we assume:

Gone before their work is done?

Were they ever real?

Someone said justice is a hypothetical construct, that what passes for justice is a dream granted only to those in power,

a privilege as beautiful and as rare as a Faberge egg.

Don’t believe the privilege is gone? Don’t believe justice is rarely just? I didn’t believe it either.

But then, along came Renee. And I was shocked.

Then, along came Alex. And my knees gave way.

I worry that their truth may be the new truth.

Please, God, let it not be so.

M.P. Trainor