Courage and Sorrow

Courage let fly the armor-piercing munitions,

Sound is fractured by rolling thunder

 peeling off Gaza’s disappearing yesterday.

Late Mediterranean evening engulfed in black, getting beastly,

The air having not felt such density of death in generations.

Intrepid shells keep flying,

Even as recoils of sorrow push back

And rounds of destruction find targets,

Splintering wood, plastic, cement, and bodies

Spreading a finger-painting of life, death, and recompense.

Courage hears “an hour and a half, then we’re relieved.

A day and a half, maybe home.

A year and a half, many years, another century…

Will we ever be home?”

Courage leans over,

Letting drop the tears

Merging with the murky flow of rain and death.

Sorrow feebly holds the bodies of both sides,

Weeping all but spent.