On the occasion
of the Russian military
waging war on Ukraine
Is it moral to delight in a rose
when war has broken out 6,000 miles away,
to call attention to a bird song
when buildings collapse under screaming silver,
when a baby carriage is pushed six miles
to a border between life and death
by a mother whose dreams are on fire?
A shopkeeper once selling wine
is now selling smoke and broken glass.
Business is bad because everyone
has plenty of smoke,
there is a glut of broken glass.
Do I dare tell anyone that where I am,
the sun has come up from the east,
that sea winds warm the new day?