Conflict Zone

Sometimes,
The familiar
     Isn't just -
           Familiar.

It hurts,
Deep inside.
It charges at the heart,
Puts it out of place.

How do we reckon the burns of the past?
When time is sifting them deeper into a hole,
     Into war,
           Into rockets flying in the air,
                 Into pain and hurt,
                       Into loss and greed,
Into - 
The familiar
Again,
And again.

When I was a little girl,
It was no different,
                 Except -
The familiar had 
                  More hope.
It had more hope than no hope,
It had a tint of possibility.
It had leaders, it had talks.

And now, 
As I am older
A woman
 - Or so I am told -
Time is moving forward,
Greed has deep pockets
Politicians have cruel hearts
Wag The Dog isn't just a movie.
Now the familiar
      Is horribly, horridly - 
               Too Familiar.

How do we hold on to hope
In a hopeless land?

Asking for a friend.
Asking for a country.
Asking for a nation.
Asking for a people. 

There are infinite stories in the story of two.
There are infinite losses in the story of two.
There are infinite wrongs in the question of 'who's right?' 
There are infinite ways outside of the conflict zone.

Maybe we cannot find them because they are too - 
        Unfamiliar.

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