Five stages of grief
That morning, (I could not have watched all night),
came the denial stage: this wasn’t true.
It was a monstrous error misconstrued,
until the facts were faced. Then anger flamed
at those too stupid, ignorant to see
how they’d been duped by lies and promises
‒
a better future. But, what if we tried
to bargain with them, show them what they’d lose,
get them to change their minds. Impossible.
What’s done is done; what’s black is black.
Depressed and powerless I nurse the loss
and try to move on to the final stage ‒
Acceptance ‒
that part of my identity
has been torn out, the country’s turned its back
on reason and humanity. This state
is surely the most painful of them all.
