Resident Poets

I knew nothing of the war
except what they told me,
that it was for freedom.
All I really remember is the boy
lying on a concrete slab.
I remember the dried blood on his cheeks.
I can’t make out the race so well,
he’s a brownish boy
just lying there with his
bullet wounds,
staring that stare.
His arms are at his side in
the photo
and he’s lying on his back
on this grey slab.
That’s all I remember, really,
just the boy.
No soccer matches for him,
Mom won’t take him in the SUV.
He’s lying on his back on that concrete slab
No one called the police.
It won’t be on the news.
They won’t interview the parents and
seek our help to
find
the
killer.
There will be more
at
ten.

***

Fireflies

fireflies
we are
you and I
a sparkle over there
here
now there
how can we hope for more when
the stars
are
fireflies
too
these mighty suns
burning in the eternal night
a night which will be there
when stars are
gone
as gone as the children
of war
these children deserved more
than those majestic
meaningless
stars
the children of war deserve more
than some unknown poet
can give them
I am the same as them
You are the same as them
greater than mere stars,
galaxies
what galaxy can equal one
child
***

So,
we’ll just write a poem
yessir
just sit down and write
a poem of love
of rescue, of
summer breeze and
removal of hate,
a poem that says
we were here
and the flowers were wiser,
and the animals were wiser than we,
we rescuers of ourselves,
always rescueing ourselves.
Be like my cat.
See how she
loves,
truly loves the
cream.