...am working on this poem... tonight...

Nothing

Nothing is all I am
Nothing overloading nothing
Closing the doors,
Opening an extra into an empty space,
Nothing ensues but a further war.

The bombs, lights that blind and Damascus,
Burning after Tehran. Sisters calling in despair,
Brothers callous the arms of infidels. Nothing happens
But children die, and journalists are filming for a deadline.

Nothing comes after nothing but I,
Kneel, cry for nothing,
and still the no shepherd birds burn at flight.

Nothing happens. I walk by the Central Park
Next to nothing, and the no flight zone is
Just nothing yet throat slides over throat,
Bullets shut and blood drops. Here nothing happens
But I write to keep nothing from overloading nothing.

Sheema Kalbasi