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.


Frightening times. You express it well.