Mother’s in labor
Birthing their babies
In the subway stations
Away from the bombs
Exploding above ground
Bombs hitting
Maternity hospitals
Children’s hospitals
The elderly making their way
Across the rubble
Leaning on their canes
The tear streaked cheeks
Of children saying goodbye
To their fathers
Through the train windows
These images
We are seeing
Broken hearts, broken lives
Anger at this waste
Of precious lives
We are angry
I am angry
Trying not to hate
Hate will do no good
For me or those I love
For this world
Already steeped in it
Why this war, this way?
How does this one leader
Live with himself?
Is this how he wants
To be remembered?
The cruelest of tyrants
Inflicting his insanity
On the vulnerable?
Is there a shred
Of the soul left to appeal to?
To lament and pray for?
He is not the only tyrant
Still alive today
Perhaps, it’s not too late
To hope
To pray
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