The Buzzing

Do you see the fly over there on that wall Good sir? It certainly is a little thing Isn’t it? I wonder about all the things it has seen In its short little life. Maybe it’s breathed life’s breath one day Maybe three or four Maybe more Even if it has only drawn breath for a moment It has already felt: War. Disease. Poverty. Hunger. Terror. Such a little thing it is. It must be so scary To be so small. I wonder if it feels helpless. Maybe that’s what the buzzzzzzzing In my ear is about A reminder. A warning. The fly on the wall She sees everything. She sees what we can not. What we will not. She can fly so high and see Everything. Yet she is just a fly Just a little thing She can do nothing But stay up there On that padded wall In front of me I wonder if she can get out To buzzzzzz again. People need to hear her buzzzzzz. They need to listen. To her cry. Why can’t they hear her And why can I?