A Poem

I was asked to update. Unfortunately, I really can't think of anything worth telling my readers about. I did, however, find this poem at http://www.msf.ca/letters/cy/, written by a doctor with MSF. Thought provoking:

Poem : For Whom the Bell Tollsby Steve Cornish
"Surrounded by winter's cold harsh darknessThe room, hazily illuminated by the smoky oil lampThis lump like a jagged rock in my throat, refuses to recedeThis tasteless tea slides down jerkingly bringing no warmth, no comfort.
It seems impossible - When, I think of… Those in Chernokozovo being tortured at this hour, Of those cold and scared,Shivering in damp, dark covered pits; Of the women…Whose swollen bellies constantly remind them of the outrage done to themNot only has their dignity and freedom been denied them now - But…they will re-live the horrific incidents for the rest of their lives.
Stabbings, beatings, killings, electric shocks, faces scorched by gas firesBodies sailing out 5th story windows…. People screaming and begging for their lives;Proclaimed innocence, last wild-eyed looks of terror before accepting the inevitableChildren, witnessing their parents death, explosions, passersby dropping to the groundSniper fire, rocket blasts, artillery barrages, buildings crumbling like their lives.
And the WORLD… Looks on - or is it - the other way!A detached impersonal collective world, a non-responsible WECitizens, mothers, brothers, aunts, and grandparentsCollectively continue with their daily lives, seemingly unawareHow can they fail to see? To listen? To care?
The war will rage on, as will the abusesNo one cares to send a clear signal, a messageNo one cares to become outraged. Outraged enough to put an end to the terror.
Not a mad-man, nor a crazed dictatorOur typical culprits absent, But a proud - an articulate, calculated statesman, Embraced by the WORLD and her statesman, Encouraged and supported as he rides head held high sitting atop a throne of corpses.
I cannot go on, month after month; Listening to the horror storiesMy interpreters can hear no more, And I?Why collect such misery to inform, when only deaf ears are reached.
My dinner left unfinished, I take leave of my Chechen hosts, For a solitary un-easy restless sleepOnly to soon, I too will take leave of the population and their miseryI too will lose my outrage, and will pursue my own concernsAnd the terror will continue un- abettedEven my faint pestering cry will seizeRejoining the impersonal WORLD, We together will not care,As long as the terror is kept at a safe distance from ourselves."