“Somehow this madness must cease.”
–Martin Luther King, Jr.
Somehow, like a small stunned bird
cupped in your hands with its heart racing,
is a word of hope or desperation,
carrying a moral burden, a Sisyphean burden,
to do whatever is possible, before
it is too late.
Might we not somehow awaken,
open our eyes, stand up in the face of madness
and, even with trembling legs
and a fluttering heart, comfort
the small bird until it can spread its wings
and fly away?
It is a delicate task to set aside
the blanket of complacency, to somehow,
as he did, clutch courage to your breast.