Poem by R.M. Dolin
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?
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