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By Molly Murray
Shots rang out in San Bernadino,
seventy bullets bit bodies, took breath.
In the bush, a starling beat
its wings, called to another, rising –
Bombs burst in Paris.
Gunspray in Orlando,
and another joined the dance:
a flock of birds swirling and swishing,
the fringe of a scarf dangling above the tree line
seamlessly brushing the sky;
watercolored wave swirling
eddies, a calligrapher’s
twisting inkflow, blotting smudging;
sporadic red bursts of terror
thresh our globe like a Pollock canvas;
frantic entities, thrumming wings
thrusting heads, pulsing voices trilling –
white shoots black,
black shoots blue,
“Why? why? why? why? why?
Why? why? why? why? why?”
blood runs red
under every shade of flesh
Talons, hawk beaks can’t break through
the mystery or the power fused
by the inexplicable synchrony –
the strength of the impossibly pure beauty
in the moment that thousands
of independent wings in all their colors
rise together to paint the sky
#Unreal #Poem #Murmuration #GunControl #BlackLivesMatter #TimeForAction
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