By: Jim Piatt

Reports of new battles flow inward,
Like shards of splintered glass they
Awaken heartbreaking feelings,

My heart cries out in dismay
Amidst the furor of finite time,
Tears stream down my cheeks,

Bitter information about new wars
Carve bloody canals in my brain
Leaving crimson trails of sadness,

I am alone among crowds,
Cheerless amongst happiness,
My grief as sharp as a scythe,

My ideas fail to form sentences,
My words fail to make sense,
My paragraphs plunge from pages,

I am no longer a knowing poet,
Only an ordinary man, without
Answers to the inanity of war…