Gaza bony, big-bellied, flies sipping their tears toddlers suck their mothers dry they whimper at tight belly and thirst the infant stuffs dusty fingers in her mouth to quell her need her bewildered gaze shows where hope has gone how can I from my chair reach this child, or the next, the next, the next I, with plenty to eat watch the daily desolation pray, donate dollars write poems? it is not enough
Oh, the true heartbreak of that last line, of all of it. So well said and it lands hard on the heart... as it should.
Sometimes it seems unbearable, doesn't it?
The amount of suffering in this world staggering
When I'm in as much physical pain as I am, my words can lean toward the dark.
12:49 toddling off to bed now....
The kind poet hurts
In her body, in our kin’s
In our shared hurt heart