When babies wash up on the shore
We do nothing but wait for more.
Though barrel bombs drop from the sky
We have (long ago) stopped asking why.
While children are gunned down in class
We sit and maybe offer up Mass.
As businessmen pollute sky land and sea
We ask: what’s it to do with me?
And when dictators and demagogues parade
We offer up our home as their stage.
Like good people in glass houses,
We don’t throw stones.
