Petal Storm

Can anyone reconcile
The knowledge that the hours spent
Writing, sleeping, anything

Will coincide with the deaths
Of people, thousands of them,
And an interminable

Agony for even more?
No one tries. What people try
Is to focus on the deaths

And suffering that matter
Most to them. Usually,
Their’s, their loved ones’, their people’s,

Sometimes those in the headlines,
Those most horrible, those most
Concentrated, those most cruel.

This is understandable,
Understandable to scream
At others, Pay attention

To the deaths of my people
Who are being killed by yours!
Bearing witness may be all,

May be the best you can do.
But then, the day your people
Stop being assaulted, or

The day your people, yours, launch
Their own premeditated
Assault, or just the merest

Quiet day at last for you,
Can you reconcile knowing
That while your jaw unclenches

Thousands of people still die,
Albeit, this hour, not yours?
The moment you stepped outside,

A huge gust of wind blew through
The trees in your neighborhood,
Showering you in petals,

Millions of thrilling petals
Swirling in clouds around you,
Not to reconcile with you.