even when you close your eyes
it follows you, like a shadow,
a bird that flies very close behind
this is it, a bomb falls somewhere
children are bleeding, mothers losing
but there you stay
in your comfortable bed asking
God for reasons you have left to live
to receive voice
to speak in it for those who have
been swept over by the news
taken into the hands of their maker
once more, tales, memories
personal artifacts: old clothes, missal, TVs
photographs coming into ash
to bring about other photos
newer and fresher the wounds
blood, tears, gas
photos, stories, soundbites
you turn the news off and close your eyes.
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