Catastrophic visions are poor guides

In childhood, we rely on  love serene
The security of place and people makes our world.
With luck, we will not feel like babies hurled.
Into a change that shatters  what we’ve been

To see familiar places newly strange
With bloodied bodies injured or now dead.
This is not the  tale that we were read
Our inner maps  whirl, minds  flung, rearranged

Bridge, beauty iconic, loved by me.
Met old friends, we sauntered by its side.
Catastrophic  visions are poor guides
Thoughtful and attentive we will be.

Europe’s hit by  enraged fear  from men
Who feel we are the ones who injured them.