where life least hangs

i see an earthquake crush the haitian land  
          such misery i can never understand            
                    for i am in a place safe on a rock  
                              dreading no portent shake or aftershock  
 
i see dead soldiers in afghanistan  
          silenced by isis whim and taliban  
                    my streets of home are filled with idle men  
                              no trace of proselyte or saracen  
 
i hear mudcakes are served for banquet feasts  
          where hungry afrique children, like poor beasts,  
                    must balance kwashiorkor hunger pangs  
                              against the will to live where life least hangs
 
an orphan splits the night with desperate cries  
          no breast or bosom or scant compromise  
                    wherewith to face the bitterness of earth  
                              while i indulge a seeming nobler birth  
 
my dogs belch turkey hams and gourmet cuts  
          drink canine punch and cushion-rest their buts  
                    yet it has never crossed my turbid mind  
                              that, in a world of darkness, i am blind  
 
i see a headless body in the street  
          blood pictographs on canvas-stained concrete  
                    then realise i that the life in me  
                              should opportune be for men's liberty  
 
© 2021 September 01  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫