Prodigal Medic....

Bordering Contentment

overwhelming
the child- the prey of death’s vulture
the internally haunted cry out to deafened, calloused exteriors
both un-savable

trapped by thin, weak lines on a map
heartbreak, death and measured politics border
countless lives lost for
injustice and criminals
and the desire of disgust

what I must have been to the woman holding a dying child in her arms
some inhuman amoral monster
but conflicted and haunted, craving my innocence,
I calculate my calculus
impunity a burden I do not know how to carry

so great this bounded stench of inaction and apathy
the air so thick with blood I taste iron with each breath
the cordite stings my eyes
and the desperate incontinence of fear is all that I smell

yet we live
with labels and flags
geogrpahy and politics we deem values
we live
with being content
and build more walls to build more bridges
No need; let’s use use their dead bodies instead