There are more cyclones in the Philippines
Than there are volcanoes.
While in Pakistan, terrorists ambush everyday people,
As they walk through bazaars and alleyways.
And in Germany, refugees are embracing each other
Having made it into the promise land.
While I sip a cup of tea
And watch all this unravel on BBC News
Like a man who’s sipping his greatest joy
While hearing his greatest dismay
Remembering the days of the last French king,
Wondering, am I that aloof,
Not to see the pain through saccharine lips
Smiling for the reporters,
And all they have are their garments,
And their amulets, and perhaps a souvenir or two,
And a morsel of hope, hidden somewhere close,
That one sneaks a look at, from time to time,
To know he too, can be a survivor,
In these train-wreck times.
Refugees hanging around bread lines, feeding cake,
Through a small TV screen,
Fattening a strain of apathy,
Far more obese, than that of
Marie Antoinette’s lips.