humanitarian relief

if i'm just a walking sac
of chemicals, then there's no
such thing as miracles
and caring isn't caring; just synapses
flaring—so tell me, why should i care?

movies end happily, but i can't

for the life of me understand—if
God is dead,
what’s the hurry? why all
this cumbersome worry?
there's no referent and nothing
is definite; so do as you please; forget
poverty, education, disease.

please
tell me why—why
i should care; 
pack my bags and go
over there; pay
plane, bus and taxi
fare? so what
if children don't
eat and people can't
walk down the street without
rape, AIDS, pregnancy to meet?

i get the green thing. i have to live
in this space with all the rest
of this evolving race. but there's no
Telos so Darwin tells us—so why
should i care?

‘cause apparently, we ain't
goin' nowhere.

so i decided i don't care. but
i can't. i mean, just listen
to this rant. there's
care there.
care's there from the start,
presupposing
Science and Art; care
recessed, repressed in
my blood-rent heart.

things aren't
the way they're
supposed to be,
and the Story
of Biology is not
sufficient—they say we're
here on accident but
i need more.

i need more in order
to account
for this life as we live
it. look around and see
people caring, friend and neighbor
sharing—poverty, injustice repairing.
there's care there.

people don't love wholly
right, even when striving with all
our light: we withhold, we
withdraw, we fight; we harbor
anger, we brandish pride; we've all
of us murdered and lied; selfishly denied
truth, justice, mercy.

and yet
there's Care there.
Care echoes
in our tomes, re-
calling
to our breath
and bones
our Original
Shimmering
Start—pulsating,
all along,
in our heart.

(c) Renea McKenzie, 2014

The line breaks have been reworked since this poem's original publishing at Probe.org (which for some reason is still published under wrong title; the title was never "humanitarian aid"). At any rate, the new line breaks (I hope) add layers of meaning and emphasis.