i.
Without warning
the sky can fall
in neat
needle-stitched rows.
Precisely spaced
and GPS guided,
bombs obliterate cities
older than time.
Blood feuds are nothing
new, crisscrossing
landscapes
reshaped by violence
while books whitewash
evidence of crimes
committed
before the digital age.
But hate remains rage
regardless of party
lines, ideologies,
genealogies,
or a tear-stained history
reduced to scrolls
and held aloft
on holy days.
ii.
Lot learned the hard way
that looking back
on an unforgiven
past
to justify your path
transforms flesh
and blood into salt.
Or stone.
Yet even now
the sky still falls
without alarm
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.
