the shadows whisper

the shadows whisper

and I wonder,

who am I to dare, 

wrapped in the season’s

mirth and pulchritude?

who am I to care,

born and raised catholic,

to consider the future…

of religion, of separation,

of war, of the need to resist,

of the desire to coexist?

who am I to see

the shadows of children

so far away?

unable to imagine,

everyone has forgotten to imagine.

big money mingles with old jokes,

to veto uneasy written ceasefire.

mercy, mercy me!

come to terms

with the corrupt security council. 

veto women and children.

cut off breasts, 

blackout the genitals,

and impart intergenerational trauma again.

what was the last sound they heard?

did they hear the sweet sounds of heaven?

Rachmaninoff's sonata plays

in the background, 

and I wonder,

who am I to soothe

the souls released from captivity?

who am I unable to hug,

to love

the children

freed from the dark tunnels?

from the shadows,

unmoving 

flickers of themselves,

unsmiling, to survive the ordinary world.

who am I to say 

it has been written.

they have control now.

they can decide.

they decide to whisper,

shadows of children.