I leave my bed unmade
my dreams unfinished
and my door open
in hopes that peace will wander in.
Faces on the TV telegraph tension.
Furrowed brows and pain-filled eyes,
these are the lucky ones. Some
already lie still and cold and sightless
amid shattered buildings.
Ukriane’s brave build defense
one bottled wick at a time
and, tongue in cheek,
offer to return starved behemoths
to their origins.
The bear roars and rears while
the weary rest in subway warrens
and pray that peace will
find them.
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