Without Us

I am looking at

first, Gaza and its abstraction; how everyone
tries to shine as babies are deconstructed
and blood pools in destroyed streets,
on left-behind rags covered in curdled puddles
while back here two sides yell and scream
for their sacred religious or secular honor.

I am looking at

next, this economy and this war; we used to shine
as brightly as confetti, glitter in sunshine
as we chugged along making people die
in ever more efficient ways; did not wait
for nightfall to slay them and did not wait
to spend a single dollar on ourselves as we
returned from the bank with our deadly paychecks.

I am looking at

two men who want to be the leader of us. One is
tall and evil, rapacious and thinks of life as money
spent and hoarded; the other is the same but
talks a gentler, feebler game. Either way the sand in Gaza
will glassify, the children here will dumbly follow
and we will all take pains to bend backwards for their consent.

Regardless:
I am looking at

a river now, a laurel on the bank above it;
I am seeing one of the scant birds left skimming low
over the water; I am smelling the faint old scent
of detergent overpowered by the scent of lilacs
that will be gone in the morning. Regardless
of the nature of world chaos, I come back to this
failing promise that it will be better someday —
maybe not for long or permanently but by God
it will be better long enough for us to sigh
and say with some truth that it will be as good
as can be without us.