Is this how the enlightened or unaffected live,
strolling Idyllic beaches, at peace? What do these
happy tourists know that I don’t? Strolling and striving
for peace, I can’t help but picture the world in ruins
even as my little son is playing on the dunes.

Here at night a poet can step out and see actual stars
—not as metaphor, but proof that one is more
than one’s dread. And this vastness reminds
that though in time the world will be in ruins,
right now my little son is playing on the dunes.

Soon great things will be decided. If I stay here much
longer, what horrors will happen that didn’t have to?
And if I leave, what will I miss? After four years,
it has come to this: I fear that all I love will go to ruins,
and my little son is playing on the dunes.