Lament for Ukraine

pieces lay scattered

souls shattered

like a Picasso painting all

crooked and wrong and bile

rises in the throat,

a silent scream.

someone

make it stop. where

is the God of Abraham and Isaac

now? can He not hear the weeping

louder now than Ramah? can He not see

the river Dnieper, crimson and gaping

like the wound on your Son’s side.

crosses, sticks tied together, rise

in backyards instead of tulips, and a child

pats the dirt down over his mother

with his hunger-trembling hands.

have you abandoned them?

have you abandoned your people

again?

what

greater good will come

of this?

the whole world is weeping.

and still we try, our begging

celestial whispers disappearing to somewhere beyond

Lord hear our prayers.