Vox Populi
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Robert Okaji: Aleppo
A father sings to his son,
dead two days,
and the platitudes persist.
Widow of night. Lantern’s trick.
What trace, you wonder,
exists of humanity in these etched
walls? Light bleeds through a crack
like rules unheeded and scattered.
Another sheer looming of hours.
The song, continued.
Copyright 2018 Robert Okaji
Vox Populi 
pain, resignation
stabbing through distracted words
we let it happen
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A distilled and potent beauty.
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