“War is hell. You can’t photograph a flying bullet, but you can capture genuine fear.”
– unknown
The bomb has dropped
control slips from our grasp
We pray for a parachute
for someone to pull the cord
numbers escalate,
lives plummet
We offer encouragement
isolated voices faltering
moment of impact imminent
the implosion inevitable
impact reverberates
responsibility moot.
( Image my own.)
Searching for the alchemy
to transform this chaos –
Do they understand depravity,
those who dwell in exurbs,
blinded by their own opulence?
Children are dying, pawns
in a political sham – I know
we’re tired, but now is not
the time to sleep.
(Art my own)
War forgets
the accoutrements of peace –
in one quick blast
tranquility is banished
And if it is ever to return
it will be adorned
in the somber vestments
of displaced lives.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from the app formerly called Twitter. Image my own)
Endless turmoil
Mother’s tears
crusting over
Focus on children
strength to carry on
future a hopeful light
Who can measure loss
justify the tragedy?
Generations will toil
Damage always outweighs
rationale for war…
A nine-year-old skips
along the centre line
of an abandoned street
imagination empowered
by sunshine blue skies
Till the low rumble
of aircraft startles her
and she runs for cover
praying to an absent God
to take her now, young
heart too bruised to carry on.
A fifteen-year-old huddles
in a dank underground corner
already violated by a war
she did not ask for,
shamed by her body’s betrayal
praying for a death more forgiving
A mother holds her baby close
tremors such an indelible part of life now
grasps for a God she once believed in
sees the vacancy in adolescent eyes
the joylessness of her weeping child
prays for a way out of this hell.
Searching for the alchemy
to transform this chaos –
Do they understand depravity,
those who dwell in exurbs,
blinded by their own opulence?
Children are dying, pawns
in a political sham – I know
we’re tired, but now is not
the time to sleep.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image mine)
How can I capture
the essence of loss?
Sunshine scant
darkness falling
No image/words
stark enough
to serve as allegory
for evil taking lives.
(Tuesdays, I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Who can measure
the cost of war?
How deep destruction
scars the human soul?
I see the trench lines
carved on fathers’ faces
the ghostly pallor
of mothers’ fear –
only the children sing
unaware, bending to fate
with graciousness;
grief’s shrapnel well buried
(Image my own. Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson)
Every child bears the spark
of eternity’s promise…
Where’s the threat in that?
What mechanism of hate
equates slaughter
of innocents with justice?
This is society’s bane –
the unconscionable policies
of greed lacking accountability
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own)
Decades pass in a day
as stories unfold –
I cannot look away
War alters the landscape
renders time irrelevant
dreams ash amongst rubble
I have but an ear to listen
hand extended, heart open
Such merger recompense
for pain eternally imposed.
(Image mine)
One Woman's Quest 