God grant you in death more mercy than you ever held in your mouth.
May the souls of children walk you to your rest,
may you not rest until you have put your fingers into every bullet hole that laid them down too young.
May every step to heaven burn your feet.
May you carry every lie you ever spoke, like heavy stones.
May the young men you swayed hang from your neck like chains.
May you drink grief before you let them go.
The grief is mercy.
May you be granted to serve at the feet of dark skinned saints and know it grace.
May your children be raised by better men than you.
May they receive the empathy you scorned.
May they grow up kind and good.
May they dream a better kingdom than you preached.
May no one triumph at their death.
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