'These tears are shaken from the wrath-bearing tree'
Gerontion, T.S. Eliot
For us, the scrolling stats and pics;
For you, the jaws of tightening fear.
Blood, rubble, corpse and tears –
Packed for us in distant calm,
Garnished with all expert views.
Who knows where the experts are
When your streets are ripped in flames!
Faintest glimmer of hope must die
Here the death of thousand bombs,
For some to climb on skulls to reach
Heavenly horde of whores of God!
These the digital tears I have –
How else to weep and mourn your loss?
What else for us who safely watch
Mortal wounds you daily bear?
The neighbour’s child has painted red
The sea that laps your hapless shore.