pierced | going blank

my heart
pierced

news i just saw,
a trusted source:

“the Associated Press
has revealed
a shocking story:
a Palestinian ambulance worker
transporting a corpse
wrapped in a bloody sheet
arrived at the hospital
in the refugee camp,
where he learned
the body was that
of his own mother,
who’d been killed in an
Israeli airstrike”

i watch the footage
in a horror of grief
storm of disbelief

my heart
pierced

my heart of now
beating between
incensed activism
and deadening powerlessness

and yes, instantaneous
blankness
“this is too much…”
(what our minds do
when overwhelmed
by too much horror:
we go blank)

let’s try this:
there could be
two versions
of this poem

“the Associated Press
has revealed
a shocking story:
an Israeli ambulance worker
transporting a corpse
wrapped in a bloody sheet
arrived at the hospital,
where he learned
the body was that
of his own mother,
who’d been killed in
a Hamas attack”

is your heart pierced
any differently?

any war
any warring parties
any atrocity
any mother’s blood

and now,
let’s try this:

there could be
many versions
of this poem

let’s try this one more time:

you choose the
warring parties;

you
fill in the blanks:

“the Associated Press
has revealed
a shocking story:
a [blank] ambulance worker
transporting a corpse
wrapped in a bloody sheet
arrived at the hospital
in the [blank location],
where she learned
the body was that
of her own mother,
who’d been killed in
a [blank] attack”

or:
you are the ambulance worker

here is a corpse
wrapped in
a bloody sheet

hospital
body of the dead
corpse
wrapped in a bloody sheet

this is
your own mother

(did you know:
Muslim and Jewish
practices for respecting
the dead
are similar?)

this story
pierces my heart;
nothing blank
about this penetrating grief

i am this medic
this is my mother
pulled from the rubble
of my city or village

this is my mother
and this is her blood
which years ago
sustained me
as i grew
inside her nourishing belly

i am the medic
this is my mother

this is the blood
of my dreams
and my country

and, before we end,
one more thing:

epilogue:
as you practice this
exercise,
consider:

this could be
your country
next week
or early next year

this could be New York
San Francisco
Allentown
or Detroit
the day after the elections
or on January 6

warring parties
inside
outside
torn apart
by hatred
and alienation

violence
corpses
rubble

ambulance
hospital
death
despair

you are the medic
this is your mother

this is the blood
of your dreams
and your country

if your heart isn’t pierced yet
or if you feel blank,
please go back
to the beginning of this poem
and start this exercise
again