We resent crush, constant news
of hatred and horrors
perpetuated by mankind,
or, maybe this choke is self-projected
We, with a roof over our head, not rubble,
some food and water for family
not scavenged from a bomb crater,
torched field, burnt bough.
We view carnage: a word made from flesh,
latinate core as old as Olive trees
that have seen so many dawns,
and twist amongst fallen forms.
We, who know not, or care not
how to bring peace, and share,
without geo-location of self-interest.
Who are We?
Note: Weekly Inspiration Point