The news is sad today. Many men have died:
a Vietnamese general, a historian of the Holocaust,
a pharmacist overseas. These are just three
among thousands across the world.
This evening I saw photos of scattered ash
and merry-go-rounds in a devastated Nairobi.
Melted jars cling to their shelves,
alien to bystanders;
sun filters through an absent ceiling.
Eight thousand miles away from
the setting of a photo, I return
to my window.
Even the darkness is breathing.