R.M. Dolin, November 10, 2023
Darkness stealthy encroaches on tentative whispers whose deafening silence foreshadows the extent to which this night, like endless nights before, and more demonic ones to come, will not end well.
Rockets rain down in a centuries-old tradition as mothers sooth their children's anxiety with poems of far-away make-believe places where peace is allowed to prosper.
Forgetting their fear, old men sift through bombed-out rubble for food in the hope of feeding their families. They know in their wisdom the futility of prayer, but pray they do just the same.
The suffocating sound of sirens are certain in their promise. . . the unfinished lie everyone believes to drown out the senseless destruction. Why one wonders, after all the poems, prayers, and promises, does the world continually cascade into chaos, conflict, and catastrophe?
Note 1: Written after reading about the suffering of the Palestinian and Israel people in their current conflict.
Note 2: Title taken from a John Denver song/album.
