By Marilyn Zuckerman
Newtown, Connecticut: December 14, 2012
After all these years
of hoping that things will get better—
so this poem is for every child gunned down,
blown up as they walk down the streets of their villages,
in the Congo and cities in America—
for every child who goes to bed hungry
for the homeless abroad and in the U.S.A.
for the victims of border wars and those kidnapped by drug
lords or pirates,
renditioned by the state itself
for those sent overseas and those who come back damaged
for the elderly, who now must work until they die
for all the species of birds, animals and plants that will become
extinct in a new, Great Dying
for cities slowly drowned by the rising seas, from glacier melt
and bad levees
for the millions of refugees on the road and in camps that barely
keep them alive
for those living in failed states, trying to lead lives of quiet
for the dying of the earth and the terror of nuclear disaster
for those who still love peace and seek it
for those who tell the truth and are murdered for it.
There is more,
like the dying old man in the movie “Soylent Green”
watching pictures of earth as it once was,
families of deer
cataracts of water tumbling down
dense clouds of migrating birds
blue skies and the sea.
· · ·
From my book, In The Ninth Decade, from Red Dragonfly Press.
Also published in the anthology, Perfect Dragonfly, from Red Dragonfly Press.