Myi niece flies American bombers
over Mosul, Rocca and Afghanistan.
She decries the remoteness of
the destruction from her strike
position high above, knowing there
is likely collateral damage in taking
out embedded ISIS fighters.
Here in the U.S., we watch television news,
often remaining unmoved when seeing
apocalyptic bombings by Assad's military
forces in Aleppo; we go to bed and sleep
unplumbed by images of whole apartment
blocks falling down amid leaping fllames and
unheard cries, the dust rising silently into
an equally unmoved Syrian sunrise.
first published in Time of Singing
also published in Chicago Poetry Press
©2018 Bonnie Manion