Not Escapist to Savor What May Soon Be Stolen from You

Let’s put it this way—at present,
Wherever you are, any time

You can look up into the sky,
Or tilt your head and just listen,

Or place a palm down to touch ground,
And not sense rumbling fighter jets

Or the dueling of rockets,
Or any exchange of gunfire,

Count your locality lucky,
Because the possibility

Exists at almost all instants
For skies to fill with violence,

And if these words recount quiet
Night hours, it’s because we know this.