i.
Without warning
the sky can fall
in neat
needle-stitched rows,
precisely spaced
and GPS guided
to obliterate terrain
older than memory.
Blood feuds are nothing
new, having scarred
shifting dunes
reshaped by time
and erasing all evidence
of crimes committed
centuries
before the digital age.
But hate remains hate
regardless of party
lines, ideologies,
genealogies,
or a tear-stained history
reduced to scrolls
and held aloft
on holy days.
ii.
Lot discovered
the hard way
that looking back
on an unforgiving past
in search of justification
transforms your blood
into salt.
Or stone.
Yet even now
the sky still falls
without warning
on the heads of those
crushed beneath
the relentless weight
of being birthed
on the “wrong” side
of a line or wall —
while we idly watch
and exchange
tired quotes
with hashtag significance
from the relative
safety
of our smartphones.
