Apology Offered

Pain and no answers.

Try to live like worker bees,

all peace and blossoms?

Scrap poetry and leave

public expression to those who’ve felt

flames kiss their necks.

Try to emerge into blistering daylight

because it isn’t any safer inside.

Death isn’t reserved for those who take risks.

But if death is everywhere

it doesn’t matter if inside is a symbol of false security

or if the outside is a strange mixture of fast-paced public service and

a million other calls to arms,

it’s all the same if I don’t understand

the burning trees and insignificance of a thousand words

as the photographer makes headlines on the massacre

and the news never breaks my heart

like the vicarious loss of any trophy or medal

when honor is almost as

meaningless as

shame and now like any

word it is given its grave as justice is

just gavels and life is only

no. it’s about me

why I still need to control

hoping to make sense