Terror Or Other

Terror Or Other prose poem


Reveries are broken
I wake up in despair
Bombs blast human bodies
Human flesh—-of a child; a mother; a father who knows? Who cares?
The issue is of attracting attention
In the name of a religion
To establish the ferocity of its believers.

Doesn’t the child demand attention of its mother?
To rest a while in her lap
To extract a rare smile from her sleep deprived self.
Lunges forward to clasp her hair
Scratches the tender flesh of her cheeks
Draws blood
Does everything to make its value known to the mother who holds it.

A generation of children
Physically and mentally
Up in arms against those who have done all but to recognize this vacuity. .

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