let them in, peter

My heart, it weeps for each little one. Each lost child. Each parent who stood outside that school waiting for their little babies to come out unscathed. For innocent eyes that witnessed a massacre. For lives cut far too short.

And my heart it aches for that quiet little town. For the teachers and neighbors and friends. For the ones standing outside at vigils on this chilly December night. For the cemeteries that must make room as those sweet little children are laid to rest.

And my heart it longs to comfort them somehow. To offer some sort of impossible peace. To wrap my prayers around them. To sit silently by their side, so they know they are not alone.

May each last lost angel wake tomorrow in a peaceful kingdom. And live on eternal in a place with no pain, no sorrow, no fear.

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