This Place...

We come to this place too often Makeshift memorials and coffins From Dantrell to Derrion From Hadiya to Trayvon We are losing ground So many babies Heaven bound Leaders and clergy cram for a solution To age old city pollution But each time they hold gun turn-in rallies A body turns up on a street or in an alley There is no refuge from the morning and evening news I turn on the radio and there is even more abuse But I have stopped saying "what's next" and started saying "Thank you, Lord, you know what's best" One day in the by and by it will all unravel long after any verdict is reached and long after the echoing sound of the gavel.