by Tricia Knoll
At first the war seemed far away from dying manatees,
slaughtered wolves, prices at the pump, and bomb cyclones.
Then I asked myself IF I had ever
eaten from plastic boxes in an air-raid shelter
witnessed the death of my children on Instagram
slept in a subway station on one old blanket
carried a bleeding pregnant woman from a bombed-out hospital
met my neighbors for the first time in a shelter
tried to explain why my dog should get food
pushed twelve women and children into a minibus
moved my grandmother in a wheelbarrow
asked where all the shoes went in the shoe store
lined up all my books—from Dante to Harry Potter
to Yeats and Dickinson as shields from bullets
considered shooting a saboteur on my street
sang a song to comfort strangers
clutched my passport every minute of every day
cooked for a soldier in the basement
hoped there was enough water for bedtime
decided to name a newborn as a missile fell
realized I had to leave behind the family Bible
worried about who is running the nuclear plant
mixed a Molotov cocktail in yesterdays’ Chablis bottle
tried to resurrect the footprint of my family’s home
fled from ancestral graveyards
appreciated bright stars in a black-out
in dark days for the globe—midst pandemic,
climate change, aggression, lies, inflation, poverty,
and pollution. What song does the Earth sing today?
Tricia Knoll understands concerns about rising gas prices and inflation. She is able to drive less, to stay home while others cannot and buy less. The televising of the war against Ukraine is ceaseless and compelling, She wishes we could act as if we are all residents of Earth, what destroys one hurts us all as citizens of this globe.
