The caption caught my eye with morning tea;

Tearful in woe, she loomed large on the screen.

The opened plastic bag revealed her son;

Her heartbreak and distress was hard to bear.

The brother held her in a sad caress;

Distraught, they parried questions from the press.

 

And I was torn. Should this not be discreet,

This tragedy, and not for public view?

Then someone else, a man, saw his friend, dead,

And turned away and ran with head in hands.

The image closed, as though in hot pursuit.

Could they be spared the clutches of this brute?

 

The answer, sadly, in the end is no.

We see this truth, though inconsiderate,

And understand and do what must be done.

If not, we grasp the daily feeds of news

And pundits throwing numbers everywhere,

But not the reason why some fight, or care.