tomorrow
i will read the newspaper
thousands dead, the earth shivering
there is no way to save them
but for a few.
tomorrow and
the next few days tens of thousands
perish beneath the failure of humans
to care enough to build properly
and the ones still living
will need a target for blame
all the dead people lips periwinkle blue
hands gone cold as frozen meat
all the grieving ones the suffering
animals the weary survivors
and then, a newborn
pulled from rubble and bent rebar
still wearing her umbilical cord
and we know one tiny miracle
is salvation for the watchers
who hear her dusty voice on the news,
the cry heard everywhere we can listen.
j. pratt-walter © 2/22/23
