HIDING BEHIND DEATH
I take a peek back onto the global stage;
Syrian still killing their children
Iraq still killing their children.
Afghanistan still killing their children–
internecine, internecine, internecine!
Such bloody theatre makes one to retreat.
I rather hide behind my beloved bard’s
death mask reveling in mournful doldrums
than witness horrifying bloodbaths which
make Shakespearean plays read like
a glimmer-of- hope-fun-of-the-art fairy tales.
My own little corner of prayers is not going
to intercept ceasing the senseless acts.
I snap my finger like a match, hoping
for a second coming to say, “Halt!”
I now open my eyes hearing the Times thump
on my pavement while glancing at my bard’s
empty chair. Will I open the paper, read
that world wars are over forever more?