There is no Middle Ground in the Middle East

We cannot understand

why peace is so rare,

so elusive, so enigmatic, so spare,

so lost in the anger,

the soul’s wear and tear.

Within Gaza’s rubble,

the body count swells,

reciprocal death pummels the smoky air,

missiles have no conscience,

a design of war.

Here, we take to the streets,

do placard battle,

espouse our ire, our high-mindedness, our fire.

Next, we grieve endlessly,

then turn the channel.

3 Comments

  • Margaret Joyce wrote:

    Hi Bill,

    Yes. It’s true. And the truth hurts.

    Margaret

  • Bill, you’ve penned an undeniable truth into your poetry. Many rage about the injustice in our world and then turn a blind eye to what is happening around them. Brilliant poetry. You’ll touch a chord in many. And, I agree with Margaret, above.

  • Charli Mills wrote:

    That last line was unexpected yet draws the entire poem to its conclusion. No matter the pain and violence “there,” we are at liberty to change the channel “here.”

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