Poem a Day 11: Power Play . . .

Today, Robert Brewer of Writer's Digest, asks us to: "Write a power poem. Your poem could somehow involve electricity, solar power, fossil fuels, wind, or water. It could illustrate a power play or someone exerting their power over someone else. Of course, you could also write about a power outage. You alone have the power to poem your way through this prompt."

Power Play . . .

Not sure I can find a poem today,
tucked somewhere between naps
and brunch, that second cup of tea,
and mental crunches over tax papers, 

a deadline looming. Where is poetry

when even the prompt speaks
of power? My turn to pick.
My turn to choose.

I choose not to watch the news today
as Russian tanks encircle yet another city,
Western nations and our own White House
debate and delay and delay,
innocents die. War rages.
How do we stop a bully? 
Just walk away and keep walking?
Ask a buddy for help? Ask anyone for help,
but never fight back? For that will escalate?
Is that another power play?
Zelensky has followed all these steps, 

again and again. His people fight; 

his impassioned pleas to the West

resonate with horror. With honor.
We send words and arms but stay
on this side of the line. Do we feel safe?
For how long do we feel safe?

Sanctions, our leaders propose, will limit

the war, will encourage negotiations.

When has talk ended bullying? killing? 

the atrocities of an all out war?

This is not a poem.

This stalemate that sidesteps an ending to war

is simply power feeding power,

an unending circle,

while we remain on the outside, unsure,

unwilling to risk what could lead

to nuclear war.

But we are not at peace.

Image of Kiev, Ukraine, home to 2.9 million people

by ELG21 from Pixabay