In shock and horror,
outrage at the murder of so many
(one would have been too many)
targeted
(is there a more appalling word
to use for people?)
because they loved another human being
whose gender was their own,
I joined companions in a search for peace
atop the mountain summit,
Mauna Kea, snowy peak amidst the tropics,
holy summit for a thousand years.

I searched for peace, but found a mountain grieving.
The howling wind re-echoed with the cries of loss.
The streaming clouds wept hail upon the slopes.
The broken peace so far away
will not be mended from a mountaintop.

No, we must mend it from the valleys;
we must heal it in the plains;
we must nurture peace wherever human beings
hate each other for their skin, their past,
their faith, their loves.

Only then, perhaps, may we return
to Mauna Kea,
lay our peace upon the ahu,
giving thanks to God that we
have finally
attended to the prophets,
to the Christ,
to the truth-tellers and the songs,
and now can come to worship.