Torment

The nuclear specter,

vast and dire,

Pales before the torment,

small malignities inspire.

A scornful gaze,

a belittling jest,

Opportunities concealed,

benevolence suppressed.

Sure. These minor malignities

won’t scorch the earth,

Or mute the cries

of countless lives,

Yet, they do inflict suffering,

of untold worth,

Against which, we stand,

ill-equipped and hurt.

A nuclear threat may loom,

it often lies still,

Crafted to intimidate,

(how cinical!)

never designed to kill.

But daily, our malignities

inflict their human toll,

A reminder of the universal power,

mobilized by the human soul.