the safety of the child

my left hip has fallen towards my knee

much as a loose boulder slides to the distant stream

heedless of any obstacle or imagined pain

disregarding the bombs

the thorns, dirt roads

the seasons and the daily orbit of the Earth

around the burning sun

heedless of the madness spreading like a violent plague,

a pandemic,

a rat infection spreading from the agony of the gutters,

the sewers,

the oligarchs with their fine coconut cupcakes

heedless of my wishes,

unaware of my existence, my humanness,

my left hip reminding me of what i could do

tonight,

if i were able to wave the magic wand, 

but the wand would not be for me or my hip,

it would be for the safety of the child and to bury the guns,

a bomb defused:

the wand waving in the fine breeze,

seeking a cure,

to quiet the fanatic salutes,

to stop the rocks from falling to the stream.