To Be You
I wonder what it feels like
to awake in the middle of danger,
be thrust into a whirlwind of panic,
swallowed by the carelessness
Of those before.
To watch the flames
take vigorous bites out of a house,
leaving with nothing but a stronger appetite.
I wonder if the ashes
that fill their lungs
will compel the others into action,
arising to an occasion
they needed met a long time ago.
I wonder if the smoke
that blinds their sacred drive,
will be enough to
provoke an anger and hunger for justice.
I wonder if the blood
of young lives will soak the hearts
captivated by the events
unfolded before them.
I wonder when the marginalized
will speak with authority,
knowing they’ve captured
the attention of the elite.
I wonder what it’s like to be you,
watching, as they pass by, capturing tragedy with film
speaking of pain as a commodity.
It’s you we forget about,
as the next story floods in.
It’s you we’ve abandoned after somewhere,
someone else, cries out in agony.
How long must our hearts remain troubled?
So we read, or we watch,
and go back to our 6pm dinner
waiting at the table for us.
Because, for us, it’s an event.
And the next morning,
we’ll do it all again.