Author’s Note

Prayer, at its heart, is sacred. It can heal, comfort, and connect. But when prayer becomes a substitute for action—when it is the only thing offered in the face of preventable tragedy—it curdles into something hollow. Words without movement are not faith; they are excuses.

Confetti Over Graves was written in anger at the endless cycle of platitudes—those quick gestures of “thoughts and prayers” tossed like scraps to the grieving, while nothing changes, while the same wounds reopen again and again. This is not an attack on prayer itself, but on the apathy disguised as piety, on the cowardice of leaders who offer sympathy in place of responsibility.

If compassion never moves beyond the lips, if love never reaches the hands,
then what are these words but glitter tossed over graves?
A hollow gesture for those who can no longer notice.

Confetti Over Graves
(Thoughts & Prayers)
Poetry By Rowan Evans

In the silence after the storm, they speak— 
Whispers like dust in the hollowed air, 
“Thoughts and prayers,” they murmur, 
As if those words could sew the wounds shut, 
As if they could rebuild what has crumbled.

But the world bleeds, and their empty phrases 
Fall like ash from a dying flame, 
No spark to ignite change, no fuel for the fire, 
Just the cold echo of apathy disguised 
As concern, wrapped in hollow promises.

“Thoughts and prayers,” they chant, 
A chorus of silence, loud and hollow, 
As the world screams beneath their indifference. 
What good are these words that fall from their lips, 
When no hands are raised, no action follows? 

They toss these phrases like confetti over graves, 
Hope that the dead won’t notice 
How little they mean, how meaningless they are. 
Thoughts are fleeting, prayers are whispers 
Carried away by the wind, lost in the void. 

Yet the pain remains, rooted deep, 
The tragedies continue to unfold, 
And their words are no balm, no salve, 
Just the sound of a door closed 
On a house already burning. 

If you have nothing but air to offer, 
Best to keep your mouth shut, 
For silence is kinder than the lie 
That “thoughts and prayers” will heal 
The wounds they pretend not to see. 

The world waits for more than hollow phrases, 
For more than a heart too heavy to act. 
So keep your words if they are empty, 
For the dead can no longer hear you, 
And the living are tired of listening.

Closing Note

These words are not against prayer or hope, but against inaction cloaked as concern. Let them remind us that care requires more than whispers—it demands presence, effort, and courage.

If you would like to explore more of the Hexverse, you can find more of my work as my various personas in The Library of Ashes.