Poem: It is there, but what is there

It is there, but what is there

and why and how
can it be understood or changed
or made better?  I tried
to stop the harms 
I thought were  involved,
but it is no better
or maybe it is worse
and I am not comforted
or pleased, won't say
the real words
because they are too much
and admit too much
and it is too dark to think
it could be anything 
that would matter
and should be
considered.  I don't know
even how to start,
but it is needed,
isn't it?  Or else
the consequences
that I don't know
are the ones
I am accepting.

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