Pointless 2011

Pointless

We know, we know.

Yet we are hurt, astonished

When the anger opens

Weaponed, bomb- and bullet-filled;

Detached, well fed, strangely inhuman

Mis-fostered passion,

Technologically obtained.

We know that there is no safe place,

That life is fragile,

Unpredictable.

Know that books and folk are saying,

Calling days the ‘last’.

Oslo. No

Peace prize today:

Price of peace the pointless piece

Of tragedy.

Delayed, an inner movement

That says “Moan and cry!”

One can but mark a moment

In eternity.

Pointless 7.24.2011

Our Times, Our Culture;

Arlene Corwin

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