Just words

I feel surrounded by Death,
and the Promise of Death.

Too many dear to me have lost friends,
and mothers, sons, and fathers,
in what seems the space of an afternoon.

Others have been sentenced, and
now they wait.
And I wait with them,
counting under my breath.

I cannot help.
My cup is empty
in the face of such loss.
Their pain overwhelms me.
I fear my own weakness.

My thoughts move unbidden to places where this
much death and more is truly the work
of an afternoon. Families and friends
wiped away, each day after day.

How do they do it? How do they stand?
How can a soul face so much death and live?

Ebola, ISIS, Russian Separatists.
They are only words to me. Pictures on a screen.
But every day they deliver Death,
and the Promise of Death.

Call it tragic.
It is the Way of Things.
These are the
rules of our existence.

So, this is middle age.
Perhaps I should have taken more
risks in my youth, though I am
not sure what else I could have done.

I will recover. I will find my feet.
I will help as I can.

But it won't be today.
Today I am paralyzed by Death,
and the Promise of Death.

Image from here