Where does hope hide
In photos of cremated babies
What happens to hope in a world devoid of color
Can she bury her thoughts on this black and white planet
Layered in pulverized gray dust masking the faces of the decapitated
Or in the melted black ashes of iPhone pics of weddings and bar mitzvahs
Where does she hide in the body of a raped and mutilated 16-year-old girl
Do her hands cover her eyes on viewing the elderly butchered in their homes
And does she wipe away her tears with a red heart-shaped napkin
Raising her head and closing her eyes to avoid seeing the blood-soaked floors
Putting a cloth up to her nose
One soaked in sweet temple oils to avoid the stench of death
While covering her ears to avoid the wails of screaming orphans
And tasting the fear clinging the bodies of the hostages
All the while knowing that we’ll pray or say, “Hope is not lost”
And feel her fist dig deep into our gut
