when the pains and pangs of aging
are no longer appreciated because
of so much greater pain and strife
in the world
when the morning’s wake is distilled
by the wailing of sirens going in pursuit
to mitigate anguish or approaching
the hot irons of violence
when the water’s edge is filled with
man-made debris and the fish floats
atop ocean waves strangulated by a plastic
tab discarded, uncaringly, into its abode
when the winds of heaven once of joy
now being transformed into climate storms
from smoke stacks and refuse of those
whose almighty dollar feed but a few
when my swollen aching feet
no longer ambulate a few steps
to check if the turtle dove and the
hummingbird have sustenance
this is when my heart, torn,
my spirit tattered, i thus
can only wish for the goodness
of the universe, my soul to take
