How can I celebrate holidays
When relatives lie crushed under missiles fresh from Scranton;
How can I enjoy the upcoming dinner
When homeless masses face empty makeshift tables in tents;
How can I toast the future
When young mothers of Gaza have no clean water to nurse;
How can I laugh
When joy at once has been flattened;
How can I calmly breathe
While blood-soaked siblings gasp over thick dust- frantic to uncover their sisters;
How can I look up to the stars
While roaring Boeing F-15s rain down death at will;
How can I be happy with my family
When I see none survive but a son orphaned;
How can I hope
When a massive storm of despair hangs in the air;
How can I see tunnel’s light
With none in sight.
What is left clings to this: never, ever is it the God of Abraham’s will,
(Head bowed in abject disgust);
Anguishing over his three beloved sons’
Genocidal throes of fratricide..
—
Peter Kakos, December 2023, Northampton, Mass.
