I had a nightmare last night. As I have been sitting with the feelings, I keep returning to the fact that what was nightmare for me is reality for so many people today. There will be a reckoning in the after, and people will be called to account for their cruelty, whether dutiful or gleeful. There will be a reckoning.

ICE Dream
by Beth Weaver-Kreider

They grabbed her,
my oh-so-fierce
and oh-so-fragile mother,
and threw her to the ground.

Even in the light of day
through the sheeting rain,
beyond the simple sounds
of the day, I hear her cry out.

I cannot stop feeling it,
cannot stop hearing the cry,
the crunch, cannot stop feeling 
the helplessness engulf me.

All these traumas we witness
daily, the grandfather tackled,
the mother taken away,
the terrified and weeping children,

they’re all our family, all fierce,
all fragile, all endangered 
by masked and violent men,
bent on power and domination.

The cries echo everywhere.
The yell, the crunch, the quick
abduction. Our elders. Our
children, our neighbors.

Perhaps I have not listened
keenly enough to the cries,
have not held with reverence the line
that ties me to the disappeared.

I thought I was paying attention.
All I know is that today
my heart is shattered,
pieces scattered to the winds.