"Even The Stones Will Cry Out" poetry in memoriam of Matt Sheppard

“…. Even the stones will cry out”

Outside the city gates
In another outpost of
Another heartless Empire

The body of a tender-hearted soul
Seeking a semblance of communion,
Betrayed into believing that even people like us
Could find love

Became the victim of another crucifixion
On that lonely, Laramie plain
Where there were no witnesses, no lamentations,
No mourners to protest the “scandal” of such a cross.

But every October, as the winds here in Kansas turn bitter
My thoughts turn to that hate-filled holocaust that breaks my heart,
That bruises my faith, and burns to the wick
My fledgling hope of acceptance for people like Matt and me;
Or at least a dim flame of tolerance, yes a hope as fierce as a prairie cold,
October wind…

A hope that no more Jews will ever be gassed,
That no more little black girls will be bombed in their church,
That no more Catholic and Protestant school children will be murdered
While playing hopscotch.
Senseless, horrific, and seemingly endless acts of evil that make me understand why
Many believe that God is absent during these dark, cold, frigid days.

And, for me, I can’t find closure in Matt’s passion play.
Laramie’s Good Friday will never have the happy ending of
An Easter Sunday, the joy of an empty tomb, the beginning of new life
And the ending of Last Suppers.

Because, for me, I have to cry out, and I have to see others cry out, and if nothing else,
The stupid stones on a Laramie hillside need to cry out!

Because, you see, my Matthew is still out there, alone, cold, desolate and foresaken
Whenever another gay man or woman is humiliated and vilified.

Because, you see, Matt is gone and I am alive and haunted by a senseless act of evil
Every time I feel a cold wind remind me

That winter is not over yet.

In Memoriam Matthew Sheppard
By
Rick Folker