You existed in absolute irrelevance, shrouded in your emphasis.
Hear this, you’ve added no hate.
The legacy of your plan, success for tolerance and peace.
You have unified strangers, not divided.
I am devoid of religion yet you hand me shield and sword to protect all who pray.
Fear this, you have diluted animosity, launched no malice and succeeded to connect the virtuous.
I care not of your past, your childhood, nor school,
I care that you’ve killed my friends.
MY friends, my beautiful humans that I was yet to meet.
You’re not my voice, my wishes or rhetoric.
Nor that of my brothers or sisters.
Your plan to perpetuate pain, unfathomable.
Your gross cancer and disdain for life, unimaginable.
You are anarchic bacteria which will cease with this penned antibiotic havoc.
Yet there you are, a man like me.
You sound, you walk, talk and breathe like me.
And there you remain, humanity coiled and bitter secular insanity.
I refuse to be sanitised of my pain for another’s loss.
I fight against the sterilisation of horror.
All you’ve done is bring me closer to peace.
All you’ve achieved is closer unity between strangers.
I relate not to your colour.
I relate not to your script.
Your vacuous existence amounts to ground ash in a cold extinct fire.
Your name will never be in my brain nor on my lips.
I will tell the stories of your victims.
I will ensure their struggle for acceptance is forever engraved with empathy.
The air separated by every catastrophic bullet has pushed me closer to those who embrace acceptance.
You will never know the feeling of inner warmth due to the embrace of a stranger.
When you reach out no-one will be there.
When you call out no-one will be listening.
Your thoughts but a tumour to be surgically cut,
Your bile is but Verdigris.
We will all walk past one by one hand-in-hand, race, gender, orientation, religion and origin will be of absolute irrelevance.
Collaborative hacking away at your contemptible and repugnant mural which defined you, has commenced.
It will be scrubbed clean and ready for new paint.
The colours are already mixed with compassion.
The brushstrokes left from the billions who walk past will be your legacy,
And it will be a myriad of colour that will eventually replace the sun.
COPYRIGHT 2019 PEDRO BATPOET