Nancy L. Meek

IT MAY BE TOO LATE

You know, when you’re holding a bombed and bleeding child,
it’s awfully hard to detonate, much less, to throw a grenade.
When your hands are clasped together in prayer to God,
it’s hard to light the fuse on a bomb somebody has made.
It’s hard to do anything, except to save that mangled child
you bare in your trembling arms, not knowing where to turn,
not knowing what lay in store today, much less tomorrow,
for that child close to your heart; but, hopefully, you’ll learn.