The War

Brothers in white
on the sidewalk,
arms linked, deep
eyed, silent.

Sisters in white
behind, before, surrounding,
singing minor, singing anger,
singing rejection hymns.

Children sink to the lawn,
draw in their heads, 
huddle like rocks.
Hiding is the new playtime.

Sky, once shelter,
once cathedral ceiling,
cracks all across, one 
horizon to the next.

We are either ahead of 
the War
by mere 
seconds now 

or we are in it
and still
can’t understand
that it is here.