Little Stories

I’m human, but,
more than that, I’m
a human.

A mother is crying because her daughter is sick;
On another continent,
so far away that it almost doesn’t exist,
30,000 children died today.

My meeting ran late so I skipped lunch—
Hungry and irritable, I snapped at my wife.
Genocide and revolution level a town.

If I can forgive the coworker who didn’t thank me for the double latte,
We can rebuild the village after the warlord is gone.

I just finished reading
a story about two lovers
set in a time of explosions in the sky.
I don’t remember who won the war,
but I do remember how they held each other as the buildings fell.

The little stories are the great stories.
I want mine to be one of them.