How do I mourn the death of


four Americans, one child when death is

everywhere - else.


I can crumble into shards of myself crying

over the death of my Uncle Jimmy,

it’s personal to me.


But somehow I can only feel empty

empathy for the four
I’ll never know.

I read today that 185 people closed eyes


never to open again in Baga, Nigeria


Families by the thousands brought down by the blows of


Bombs destroying homes.

The photograph,

Nothing but dirt, dust, rubble, tattered clothes

Char on slouching walls keeping out the only two green trees


Sorrow in the way the mud turns from brown to black


I feel the hole in my chest open a little more for them


When I read BBC news because American news doesn’t tell me

A suicide bomber killed two dozen in a quiet café in Baghdad.

My Uncle Jim died of old age, heart failure


His friends are dying too, my grandparents, their friends


An entire generation departing one by one.


There are bombs and earthquakes and machine guns and crashing airplanes


Sending generations hurdling to heaven 


On days when all I am doing is

Learning American history in my American classroom


Or waking up to watch American “news” stories on American television



Boston Marathon couple gets married


Jenna Bush Hager brings home baby


Morbidly obese should buy two airplane seats

I am privileged American   

college student
I don’t have to worry myself with

The origin of my next meal


Bombs going off in Baga


Earthquakes in China


Or insurgency in Iraq


I am done only mourning the loss of my loved

I am over learning to cope.