Amid distant horrors,
A parallel story unravels.
A stream of images desensitizes my conscience,
Numbing me to immediate events.
Blurring the lines between presence and absence,
Waiting transforms into grief.
Guilt and shame weigh heavy,
Eroding any remnants of faith.
I find myself feeling inadequate,
A fleeting moment hitting me with the gravity of it all.
It becomes painfully clear:
The sacrifices of those close to me,
The helplessness of those far from me.
Amid horrors close by,
Parallel stories unravel in a distant land.
Everything around unfolds in random patterns,
As if resistance has worn thin against the relentless tide.
In the name of land, creed fades away,
And the bed of recovery becomes a coveted prize.
Sighs mingle with wails,
Lullabies morph into dirges.
To pause is to deny the intensity of my surroundings,
To pause is to deny the cruelty.
It feels eerily familiar,
As if waiting for me to succumb and collect the weight.
Amid horrors everywhere,
Stories keep unraveling:
A woman holding a baby,
A man grasping for breath,
A life sustaining another.
