Every screen
shows us
death
a bombing
and a shooting
and another
and many others
Atrocities abound
And we-
we bleed, weep and keep
watch
Moved beyond words
almost
showing our best
Until
the arguments start
Who has the greatest
loss
and who is
at fault
whose policy failed
who can we punish
Our finest impulses
are buried in
shrapnel, bile and fear
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Terrifying times, Mary. Love your last stanza – so true. ‘Our finest impulses are buried…’ Buried under a ton of fear that the horrors will visit us, those we love. So sad that humans still haven’t learnt not to kill each other. A great, sad poem
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Thanks Lynn. It’s difficult for me to write about current evens. It takes time for me to process. And by then the media is reporting on the next tragedy, and … well, you know the rest.
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I have a horrible feeling there’ll be no rushing onto the next topic here, Mary – unfortunately this will run and run
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‘almost showing our best’ – that’s brilliantly observed. I agree with Lynn – a great, sad poem.
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Thank you Sonya.
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Properly angry and defeated. Great use of language here. Happy Thanksgiving.
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Thanks Mosk. Happy T-day to you.
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I find it so hard to write about this. You do it justice ~
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Thank you M. Me too.
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