When Enough is Too Much

so find the instigator,
the thinker, the supplier, the body
connected to the finger on the trigger,
try them, charge them,
look for justice under their finger nails;
look for the voice of the dead
who lost the right to scream,
look for the consequence, does the weight
of your delayed outrage
shift the balance of their morality,
does your self-righteous harangue
blunt their mocking hyperbole,
and when you have them, come
look for me,
ask how I smothered the truth
with my impotent silence,
ask how I acquiesced to the break of dawn
when all the bombs were falling,
ask how I could still dream
when life slept the nightmare of hades,
ask if I can count, if I will know when
enough will be too much;
look for justice under my fingernails,
and while the jury is out,
let us hold hands and wait,
only the clock, ticking loud into the hollow,
or the sound of a weary hammer
nailing another tiny coffin,
its hair still wet from the sea,
look for the reason lost in the dark,
ask if I remember its damning eyes,
look for the ravine into which we have fallen,
ask if I remember which way is light,
look for justice under our fingernails,
let us hold hands and wait.