I weep

I weep for the lives lost
And for the stories that will not be told.
I lash out and wear ashes on my head
For the part that I have played:
My complicity in profit
My being a part of a thing bigger than myself
That swells on the misery wrought around the world in sweatshops and battlegrounds, in villages without clean water, among the children who starve while I throw away food.

I don't know how to solve this problem.

I am too small.

I am too small.

I would bite the blood-sucker's neck if I could reach it.
I would strike my own support lines, but the innocent are there too.
I would ride my horse into the fray and die for justice,
But I have no horse, and the time for war has passed.
The dead already litter the field.

For you, dear traveller, what may I do?
What everyday act of unspeakable beauty meets your needs today?
Ask. I dare not refuse.