being human

Standing on jagged edges
lingering in the interstices
Waiting to cross over,
To that other place
We all have names for.

When the schools were blown up,
We pretended to be dead
They pretended to be deaf,
And everybody watched.
They say, Wails and prayers
sound the same on airwaves.

You turned your eyes away
From the jigsaw of bodies-
It was only a click for you.
we searched missing pieces
and found only wrong ones.

“This ontological vocation
of being human”
asks more from some of us.
How should we respond?
To whom should we report?
Who will come with?