Posted in Poetry

An Open Letter from Orlando to Las Vegas

Wiping fog from the glass,
darkly we see the Three that remain
when the candles are snuffed
knowing that healing comes with

How
Our
Pulsing veins
Envision heaven

not with what our voiceless pain
demands.

Rise each day to your knees.

Take my hand.

© Jilly

For dVerse, where De asks us to write quadrilles using the word Hope.