Over Here. Over There.

Over here we drive in climate-controlled comfort, have so much food we throw away about half of it, leave our estates to cats. Over there they hide in basements to avoid barrel bombs, pray for water if the chlorine gas drifts in, and are lucky to have bread. There are no pets. Over here we live for entertainment and worship our gods of the screen. Over there they hope children get to live one more day. Over here it's money. Over there heat for cooking. Over here we worry about wrinkly skin and get massages when we feel anxious. Over there they operate without anesthesia or electric lights. We struggle to decide which outfit to wear over here. They want a bullet-proof vest and helmet so they can better remove rubble covering trapped innocents. The sound of a jet means travel here. There rockets, explosions. Over here we want the best and most beautiful. Over there surviving is a dream. Over here, over there. Just location, location. That, and luck, or lack thereof. If you were over there, what would you like to say to someone over here?