My gut tells me to fly to wherever this man is lying on deaths bed.
My gut tells me to picket outside the hospice where he lies on the verge of his next journey.
My gut tells me to picket outside his family's house and yell nasty obscenities about what an Un-God like people they really are.
My gut tells me to picket his funeral with a sign that says "God hates you Fred" or "Good luck at the Pearly Gates".
My guts tells me to gather all the families and friends that he and his family have harmed and raise a toast.
My gut tells me to dance in the street.
But my heart …
Tells me to pray for his soul.
Tells me to pray for him on his journey to the other side.
Tells me to pray for his family that they may learn from his evil.
Tells me to let my anger go with him to wherever he may be going.
My heart tells me to love.