Just Ordinary People

In their puffy parkas, knit hats,
Babies bundled in strollers, bewildered toddlers in tow.
Just ordinary people like you and me,
Parents and old folk, neighbors and strangers,
Teachers and plumbers, students and programmers.
Gathered at train stations, huddled in subways, piling on buses,
Clutching hastily-packed bags and wheelie suitcases, cellphones in hand.
Did they think to grab a few family photos?
Did they leave dinners on the stove, milk in the Frig?
Laundry unfolded, beds unmade, pianos un-played,
Half-finished math assignments scattered on kitchen tables?
Birthdays not celebrated, weddings left undone,
Normal pieces of life torn and scattered in the wind like confetti.
Lives dismembered with each missile, each bomb,
Wanton destruction of schools, hospitals and apartments
Lives heaved and roiled, upended and destroyed,
While the line of tanks keeps rolling, rolling,
And the fathers kiss wives and babies,
And the lovers leave behind hearts broken.
Millions of souls becoming refugees,
Labels they never dreamed they’d wear.
And why, tell me why, someone tell me why?
Who will answer for this latest aberration?
Who will answer to the ordinary people
in their puffy parkas?