March 2

War

These are the hardest times, now.
I’d hoped we wouldn’t end up here
In the midst of a small and evil man’s
Aggrievances and fears blown up into wars
And terror and the splintering
Of everything good and hopeful.

A nation careening out of control,
Victim’s tears salting the ground.
Even the moon turns the color of blood.

All I can do is move air in and out
Of my lungs while my heart
Swells with grief and frustration.
All I can write is another poem,
A story where, in the end, we survive
Intact, walk out of this darkness
Into a world where balance is restored.

Where the moon slowly returns
To a full silver disc in the sky,
The crickets resume their night songs,
The air is scented with jasmine. Listen.
This world exists, too. It’s right here
Beside me, if I can only open up
And let it in.

Photo by Yu Kato on Unsplash