HEARTS ARE TORN
As the train
leaves the station,
hearts are torn
from grief-stricken souls,
sad eyes say
it might be forever,
never uttered,
yet understood
to be true,
untethered,
the train hurtles down the tracks
toward fraught unknowns,
away from identity,
purpose,
place of being,
where hearts could rest at night
without fear of harm,
no more, no more,
now hearts are torn,
strewn along the tracks,
lodged in the cracks
of rocky, weed-choked land.
Who will collect these ravaged hearts
from the forgotten, war-torn tracks of life?
Photo and Poem by Rita Bourland
Just Poetry and Prose 
Unbearable to watch and do nothing. You, as poet and photographer, have the ability to assist through art, to move hearts, to give words to our feelings, and to attest to suffering.
Thank you. I agree that it is unbearable.
What a poignant way to think of the horror and tragedy in Ukraine. Trains also hauled off Jews in WWII. Sad for all humanity and especially for those experiencing the heartbreak.
It seems we have learned nothing from history. So very sad.