I talk to people I’ve never seen.
Perhaps a photo — is it really them,
or how they looked once upon a time?
No matter, we are connected by a bond
formed in cyberspace, the same place
we meet now, in this digital assembly
of words and spaces that indifferently
bring flowers to mind, or tears and sadness,
and awed wonder, quick smiles, lovable animals,
or perhaps even a simmering outrage at what
the world has become, right before our eyes —
an ocean strewn with plastic refuse,
food, air, farms and forests poisoned,
and then the bloodied children’s bodies,
all flowering life suddenly interrupted,
souls snatched away, now lifted up
in some ruined ghostly city
before an anonymous heartless camera,
offerings on the altar of collective futility
for some momentary political advantage
that will mean nothing the next day.
In the background, some lonely music
drifts and weaves a sorrowful lament,
while a mother sets her rifle down
and pauses for some tea.