War

Because the world
is quiet here,
because you nod
your head in sleep,
because I can turn you over,
place another blanket
across your midriff,
because the moth lands
on our oatmeal carpet
and is still in darkness,
because the wind howls
but there are no gunshots,
because we do not have to
cross borders
to a new, raw life,
or run out of numbers
to count our dead –

because of all these things
we know we are lucky
to rest here in our home,
the others not forgotten,
their bodies battered,
their bloodied noses
barely touching.

from To Wake to This

By kind permission of the author and Dedalus Press