"What Remains"

Original photo by Tim Marshall, Unsplash, edited

Would that words could heal such a gash.
They come too soon to turn the tide,
too late to sop the deluge. 
I offer you prayers, silently
so that they don't fall ill,
Facebook cancering,
comment cynicism cankering my wall
bespeaking the fall
of faith
in 
man
in
Love.
Is there love
without
Love?
I know there
is hate
where
Hate lies.
Would that words could fix the flood;
there was a promise forgotten.
Our feet grow rotten,
​standing in the waste
of what remains.