Dead in a Wheelchair

Stomach is boiling
with gut twisting fear
seeing the hopelessness
in forlorn faces
and the sea of madness there.
Death floats by
on twisted limbs
as dead children’s bodies
swing obscenely
on submerged jungle gyms
untended fires
funeral pyres
theft, rape and torture.
Soaking wet hearts
are left breaking
while leadership avers
the clock is ticking -
where are the choppers?
New Orleans dies slowly
each night here at six
even in our living rooms
there is no way to fix
the prejudiced hearts
and closed-up minds.
Help is spread out too thin,
but we can airdrop aid
to Pakistan
while our own
die from within
behind borders
as closed
on the outside
as they are in.

Jeanne MacGregor Lahn

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