Some people find God in church.
Some people find God in nature.
Some people find God in love;
I find God in suffering
~ Kayla Mueller
Let us be still.
Turn from the headlights
rushing the walls, yellow streaks
on the way to other living rooms.
Look away
from the live feed on the big screen
the words crawling, mouthed
by an anchor of the news. Offer
your back to white water, rapids
and falls, quiet now. Hush
the whir of helicopters, halt
the barrel bombs, let rubble
sort the rubble.
Being human
will require care, attend
to her, no longer body, this hole
is no memorial. A place people
go. It is
your funeral. Will there be fanfare?
Will people burn
their phones, shun
their screens, and see
you, the warm
brown eyes, the joy
of being, through
the eyes of a child,
standing in a queue, ears
still ringing?
such a pretty name, Syria:
Bright as the sun,
cradling everyone
By Reka Jellema & Brendan Bonsack
Copyright February 11, 2015