I see parallels:
from what was before,
Death’s maw hounding us
more than normal.But then. One difference airs—
We are not at war with each other.
Over small tracts of land
bullets do not shred flesh,
field hospitals built now
are not readying for wounds of war.
Heart’s wrung not by terror of weapon,
but by what we allow ourselves to feel
when cherishing the life of another—
the life of another,
This is the time for that.
|Born and raised in southeast Texas, Jessica Brown now lives in East Clare with her husband and son. Her children’s novel is The River Boy, and and her poetry collection (published with Revival Press of the Limerick Writers’ Centre)is And Say. http://www.jessicabrownwriter.com.|