I cry in our sadness
In the loss
of a little child
in the hills and plains of
Pakistan, US, Somalia, Afghanistan.
I weep in pain
in the suffering
in our suffering.
My grief
like yours
hurts.
My loss
like yours
is loss.
Our grief, here and there
is grief.
My body
like yours hurts.
But it is I
who has to do the explaining
It is I
who has to be interrogated
It is I
whose motives have to be questioned
It is I
who will be accused of interrupting
your grief
It is I
who will be lectured
on civility
the appropriateness of time, place, context.
And I must go on
Because
grief must be interrupted.
Lest it be used
for more violence.
I must go on
Because
Grief must be interrupted.
Mine, yours, ours.
Stories must be told,
Imaginations must be engaged,
questions must be raised,
here, now, there
Everywhere.
In the loss
of a little child
in the hills and plains of
Pakistan, US, Somalia, Afghanistan.
I weep in pain
in the suffering
in our suffering.
My grief
like yours
hurts.
My loss
like yours
is loss.
Our grief, here and there
is grief.
My body
like yours hurts.
But it is I
who has to do the explaining
It is I
who has to be interrogated
It is I
whose motives have to be questioned
It is I
who will be accused of interrupting
your grief
It is I
who will be lectured
on civility
the appropriateness of time, place, context.
And I must go on
Because
grief must be interrupted.
Lest it be used
for more violence.
I must go on
Because
Grief must be interrupted.
Mine, yours, ours.
Stories must be told,
Imaginations must be engaged,
questions must be raised,
here, now, there
Everywhere.