How do I mourn the death of
four Americans, one child when death is
everywhere - else.
I can crumble into shards of myself crying
over the death of my Uncle Jimmy,
it’s personal to me.
But somehow I can only feel empty
empathy for the four I’ll never know.
I read today that 185 people closed eyes
never to open again in Baga, Nigeria
Families by the thousands brought down by the blows of
Bombs destroying homes.
Nothing but dirt, dust, rubble, tattered clothes
Char on slouching walls keeping out the only two green trees
Sorrow in the way the mud turns from brown to black
I feel the hole in my chest open a little more for them
When I read BBC news because American news doesn’t tell me
A suicide bomber killed two dozen in a quiet café in Baghdad.
My Uncle Jim died of old age, heart failure
His friends are dying too, my grandparents, their friends
An entire generation departing one by one.
There are bombs and earthquakes and machine guns and crashing airplanes
Sending generations hurdling to heaven
On days when all I am doing is
Learning American history in my American classroom
Or waking up to watch American “news” stories on American television
Boston Marathon couple gets married
Jenna Bush Hager brings home baby
Morbidly obese should buy two airplane seats
I am privileged American
college student I don’t have to worry myself with
The origin of my next meal
Bombs going off in Baga
Earthquakes in China
Or insurgency in Iraq
I am done only mourning the loss of my loved
I am over learning to cope.