What Then?

Dolly Khattar

Burning car wreckage.
Spewed charred metal.
Black fog hovered above.
Macabre scene of victims in blood-soaked shirts.
Immobile breathing.
I’m suffering.
I’m in pain for the wounded.
There are too many to count.
Hundreds maybe even thousands.
Pieces of flesh were picked off fences, gardens, cars
and put into plastic bags.
For some, torn clothes identified them.
Dust had replaced their bodies.
We don’t feel safe anymore.
They cannot let us live happily.
In another country, people walked dogs,
escorted children to the park or summer camp.
I have had enough.
I wish I could do it differently.
Inflate the body bags into balloons and
set them free into the sky.
Put on a party hat.
Dance and tell a true story that ends
and they found their own happiness.
I cannot.
Two powerful bombs exploded in Beirut.
The blast killed at least 200 people and
wounded hundreds.
Homes are no longer sanctuaries.
Everything has fallen apart.
We don’t feel safe anymore.
What then?