I Didn't Want to Write This Poem

 

Image from facebook,
Take My Paw Rescue

I didn't want to write this poem

about bombs falling, people fleeing

in terror, covered with blood.

I wanted to write about

the five purple tulips abloom

on my table, about patting the wolf-dog,

and the way he so gleefully took

the special treat from my hand

and pranced away. 

I didn't want to write about

the world's sorrow and outrage

as we watch a small country

being bombed into oblivion,

while the power-mad man

holds a rally to convince his followers

of his might, to tell them that

they had better believe.

I wanted to write as I once did,

about the promise of early morning

breaking across my springtime sky,

about gratitude, about hope,

about peace.

But I turned on the news, and

I won't look away. I will write

for all of them: all of the people

helping the wounded out of the rubble,

the doctors and nurses trying to save lives

while bombs are falling on their heads,

for the ones trying to get food and water

to the starving,  the ones rescuing desperate

animals with terrified eyes, for the pregnant

women covered in blood, carried out

of the bombed maternity shelter where

they were trying to give birth. 
I will write for

the shell-shocked, the suddenly homeless,

the traumatized, the terrified, the helpless,

the dead bodies lying on the side of the road,
the gutted buildings,

 the displaced leaving their homeland

not knowing where they will go.

I will not look away.

I didn't want to write this poem.

But I turned on the news, and so

there was nothing else left
to say.

Inspired by War by Samantha Reynolds. The italicized lines are hers. Sharing at earthweal's open link.