Casualties of Context

I am the frontier farmer who, like my father
and his father before, dares to imagine a day when
things can be more fantastic.

I am the clerk who never considers the
consequences of corruption or the cascading way
cause and effect implicate the soul until
life brought me to the cold.

I am the priest alone on Independence Square
quietly asking God
the only question that matters,
. . . . . . . . . . “why?”

I am the Mom who worries about my sons
and now my daughters and the logic of homemade shields
in the face of government’s arsenal.

I am the world waiting to groan. Wondering how the chaos of Kiev
and the craziness of Caracas provide a framework for
what happens next.

I am a patriot devoid of context. Standing small
against the darkness that persists in all countries at all times.
Tell me please so I can understand
what is it you fight for?