With A World On Fire

It's been a tough season, and a tough year. The strain is beginning to show. People are doing what they need to do to stay alive, and well, and sane. And so am I. When I saw a tiny bird had died after flying into the window shortly after I arrived at work, I had to find meaning in it somehow. Otherwise I might have just broken down and cried, which actually wouldn't have been such a bad thing to do. So I wrote this poem. This little being has given something of its life energy that I might carry on. I hope it gives something of its life force to you as well.

With A World On Fire

With a world on fire or drenched beneath the onslaught of a hurricane,

And an economy collapsing ’neath the greed of our so-called finest brains,

With people shot dead on the streets for scaring lawmen with their skin,

And old folks dying in lonely rooms without their loved ones ever coming in,

With kids in cages on the border because their lives mean so much less than rules,

And whistleblowers called out of order when they bring to light the work of fools,

With a future that is dark and cold, and hope made so unknowable,

And essential workers essentially told they are essentially disposable,

With assault weapons in our state house halls in order to make the impotent feel like men,

And a loose cannon behind the White House walls tweeting hateful nonsense again and again and again,

Why should I stop and shed a tear for a tiny bird that a window broke?

Why should I find a place for him nestled in the grass, beside a stream, beneath a shady oak?

 

But if I don’t, what then will I become?

And if I don’t, what kind of will is done,

In our world so saturated with this kerosene of shame,

All ugly and broken down, and going up in smoke and flame?

So I’ll remember you dear bird of your beloved earth and sky,

So that something good and innocent might never in me die.

Copyright 2020 by Mark Robert Frank