The Mourning Has Begun

The skies are gray with humanity,

powerful, frightening, a storm beyond the natural course of our lives.


In the comfort of home,

some homes, ours, yours, we haven’t direct connections with theirs …

Wait just a minute though,

seconds really, that’s all it takes today to look at the pain of a lost soul,

dragging their body, bodies, families through the rubble of



Whose responsible for the chaos,

the insidious nature of need, something defined outside the comfort of my home.

I will watch the news today like a natural reality show,

one that will actually receive ratings, sad to imagine.

We’re talking about ‘big moments’ now,

‘presidential posturing’

‘making a statement’

yet in the end, the end of the day, the end of a life, lives, neighborhoods,

children, women, fathers, mothers, co-workers, neighbors, lives.


In the shallow recall of international turmoil,

the comfort of my home seems callous.


Its recognition is all we have,

when we cry, when we want to die, when we sigh,

there is a place that is waiting,

when the wrath is over, while in the midst we remain frantic,

we always question just why,

where is it we were told to ready ourselves to take out,

take out nicely, obliterate, accentuate carnage,

express rage toward the existence of humanity.


We are talking about numbers,

four different descriptions,

10, then 20, now 60, finally 59

fucking Tomahawk Missiles …

I’m so enraged I cannot even spell the words.

I know when I was a kid,

I just saw the news I didn’t understand.

Tonight, what they call ‘a slap on the wrist’

is spilling the blood of our humanity,


We all are part of this.

We still could, we might try,

hold your loves, we all can feel our hearts tonight.

Love exists.

Hearts Will Cry


Lives are always lost,

that’s nothing new,

we just go on again,

face a new day,

let the sunlight brighten

our lovely sunroom.

Just don’t turn on the news,

stay away from the internet,

water your flowers,

hold court with your pets,

read a newspaper … wait,

only the comics today.

Stay away from the front page,

because the people are dying,

those lives that lived with happiness,

today are bleak and they will cry,

they will shed tears,

until they no longer

can imagine where another

will run its course slow

along a red swollen cheek.


I know that we are a world

that forgives the pain

we bring upon one another,

but what about the others.

What about those we

will never ever know who


There’s a child running outside

whose parent will die tonight,

and he’ll never understand why,

just, that, well, that’s how we live.


But over here we don’t …

live that way I mean.

We water our plants,

bring the shades down

a little privacy on a sunny day,

romantic as hell.

That’s not any hell we can ever

know in the direct fire of war.

Unless, finally one day,

we realize somehow,

we are all related and responsible.

We are all part of the problem,

the human race; hearts will cry.

When Hope takes Holiday

Steve McCurry

Steve McCurry

The park seemed so attainable,

safe, reachable,

nothing sharp, or piercing,

only the equipment

that satisfied my eyes,


morning through night,

hours of fun she said,

and insisted,

and prayed that I might,

then understand.


Before the storms arrived,

I knew my ground,

wished for fairy tale dreams,

while searching the skies

as my hair trailed on the sandy ground.

Peaceful and alive,

I knew I could do this forever,

and today I would,

for just out of her reach,

I felt the initial wave,

when the bombs dropped.