a poem by Clint Smith
"when people say 'we have made it through worse before'
all I hear is the wind slapping against the gravestones
of those who did not make it, those who did not
survive to see the confetti fall from the sky, those who..."
I hit the character limit, but you can listen to Smith himself recite the rest of the poem here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PmX_i4LAV5U