The World Intrudes

Headless Bodies Dumped in Mexico

Syrian Protestors Shot

Father Kills Family--AP

I smell mushrooms among these fallen trees,
legs ripped out of hillside beds. 

In all that violent decay, the toadstools bloom.

My God! Life’s unstoppable, brave, forgiving!

Look here! What a shiny sword of light

Cuts through this pungent grove. 

I love this place.

I can do nothing for those Mexicans.

Old trunks lay deaf and dumb in mossy coats, 

Wounds dried, knuckled fingers grasping leaves

Like dollar bills, like wills, like hope. 

Remember, trees grow back and 

One can live without legs.

Turn back now. Call my dog to heel 
Now that every log looks like a corpse.

Too many trees yanked and cut,

Their lives sacked by random whims.
I can do nothing for the Syrians.

Clouds drift, the wind blows soft and cool.

How smooth and kind it feels against my face. 

I just love this place. 

I can do nothing for those murdered babes.

But still it hurts, it hurts to feel so blessed 

that I am here, not there, not them. 

Copyright (c) 2012 Ellen McCarthy. All rights reserved.