Please Stop (Or, There Is Nothing More Tragic than War)

Please stop ignoring the toy soldiers in tiny fists on the playground
Until our lives are no longer defined by power and money
Forced-air heat making skin dry and scuffed new shoes
Talking heads glistening with sweat in day-break war zones
There is nothing more tragic than war: certainly not missed trains,
Or a kiss on the cheek on prom night, even mansplaining feminists
Whose battalions don’t let them cry or shower singing arias
Who demean and undercut female colleagues with a smile
Maybe they are dead inside
Maybe they will turn into fire or coupons for free things
There is nothing more tragic than war:
Not ozone depletion, or online classes on snow days, even cynicism
The fucking lies
It’s so insidious how the truth doesn’t matter
How audio and video evidence is like the wind
And feels like poisonous gasses we ignore
But one day the common good will be cool again
One day you’ll listen with both ears you’ll really hear
And resolve without resentment and worthiness will shine
Like fireflies in an open field in July
The simplicity of small bursts of light and their silent joy
A solace will avalanche into your throat
The forest trails will still be muddy, observed
Reading the history books, you’ll see the future and think OK
Human beings, though loveable, have mostly stayed the same