As the intimately familiar screech
of an emergency alert is issued, a displaced

plastic bottle streams along the flooded sidewalk.
Sudan still does not have sustainable water.

The mouths of widowed women and bludgeoned children
run dry. Darfur is a skeleton.

The death of the last male northern white rhino,
named Sudan, receives more coverage than the genocide.

In 2016, a photographer
received award from the World Press contest

for capturing seven-year-old Adam Abdel’s extensive burns
After his own government bombed his village,

Adam received displacement.

Cherries black by water
flowing, berries blue,
the hue of Father sky.
Bluffs and buffaloes
a long time ago, the
Great Spirit permeated
land and lives. Eagles
flew in hearts of men;
honest words were spoken
then. No token treaties,
no entreaties, arrows flew
like truth to hearts of
antelopes. No interlopers,
no antebellum prairie schooners,
no sooner had they come than
bison hooves were no longer
heard. They herded cattle,
making chattel of red men
and women and children.
Wild dogs knew better.

Copyright 2019 Tod Howard Hawks

It ignites inside them; it does boil and swell,
Another emotion man attempts to quell.
But this vapour of hatred and these bubbles of wrath,
Seem determined to scorch those that dare cross their path.
Flames stoked by abhorrence, froth stirred by malice,
"How dare the heathens encroach into our palace?"
This typhoon of sentiment, this eruption of conviction,
I find it to be the source of many an affliction.
Man stands idly by, gawking in shock,
The opportunity passes with the hands of the clock.
The lid though of iron can't contain this hot steam,
The sensation that boasts it would tear at the seam.
Guilt simmers; hope evaporates in shame,
One more missed prevention, yet no one to blame.
Man exclaims rather loudly, "Next time I will help!"
As the downtrodden perish, with a suppressed yelp.

Politics jut aren't my thing
I don't care who you vote for
I won't judge you based on your political party

but I do want to say

That is hurts me to see
so many Americans be so callous and rude
to others based on their religion or race
to watch others suffer
in countries where their leaders
are committing genocide
and when their last hope is
to run away from their home, family
everything that they've ever known
in hopes of finding safety
in hopes that they may be able to survive without fear
but then they are met with cruelty at our borders
hate in our country

What does America stand for
if not freedom and hope?
Is the American dream dead?

so if we
stand still
smell the heat

of an enemy's
bullet through our veins
for once

court outcome
of supplanting views
imbibing another's sweat

casuist's bile
scrawled on prison walls
of savaged confines

they salute
their spiel
with the same

toxic hold
as we concoct
world views

venomous elixir
polymorphous maze
shadow of a sphinx

looms clearer
as steps leading
to torn pages

of feted book
uncover dichotomy
of a self split

so that shooting a child
of shunned genes
amounts to nil

for in but a blink
his uniform
arrives home

to stroke the
golden locks
of his only daughter

playing Chopin