Why do bombs cluster and people remain reluctant to organize?
Why can’t we cluster for peace?
What would happen if love exploded or simply fell from the sky?
Would we gather the many pieces and call them hope?
I sit across the table from Channapha- listening to legacies of war.
Laos becomes a destination on her tongue.
I hear her heart singing a healing song.
I wait for her to pour another swirling story into my bowl.
– E. Ethelbert Miller