Anchorage.

I Lost My Footing In December.

”Yes”I cry Silently at night.

I see images of death, missiles, bombs, eagles taking flight.

“Yes” I scream in the night with sounds of babies gasping for air, with all their might.

I see naked women paraded around, lifeless and boundless, souls lifting on great heights.

“Yes” I gasp for air in my broken sleep, gazing at the offering given, a young lamb in a glaring white light.

I wonder will I ever sleep again, with the images printed all over the liturgies, rushing to be distributed on the midnight freight.

”Yes” I’m human and may feel too deeply, with a dying thirst to give up on this empathetic fight.