"The Killing of the Calm" by David Guilbault
POEM: "Who lost their lives under black plumes in the sky? Were they killers with no souls or a thousand kids now cold?"
(Mahmud Hams/AFP Via Getty Images)
“THE KILLING OF THE CALM” By David Guilbault October 16, 2033 Who lost their lives Under black plumes in the sky? Were they killers with no souls Or a thousand kids now cold? When moral grounds stand high The innocents still die. When evil shows its face There is no hiding place. Trapped between the borders, The political disorders, There’s nowhere left to go As the bloody rivers flow. One strangled by pogroms. One mangled by the bombs. Both suffering from hate. Both shuddering their fate. The law of war withstanding, There seems no understanding. No empathy to feel Bringing enemies to heel. Brutality and slaughter Bring deadly fires of horror. Occupation and displacement Bring grim retaliation. No side is to be taken Say those yet unforsaken. While an ax hangs o’er the head Of those held yet for dead. Diplomats mean well To close the gates of Hell. While ministers of state Stoke cynicism’s hate. Families endure A rest they can’t secure. Knowing well the pain. Will they see them ‘er again? Who lost their souls In the embers and the coals Of the bodies burned and bombed In the killing of the calm?
Excellent.