Where Art Thou? Poem by Philip Emmanuel Penaflor

I woke up numb from cold bites and I realized that
the frost had crept into my window during the night;
my heart is heavy from the thought of how many
people have died from the endless staccato of gunfire
from yesterday's armed clashes and suicide bombs
and from the rockets fired from nowhere that created
hellfire in every direction scattering flesh and blood.
When will this stupid war ever end? Or will it ever?
The snowfall has subsided and yet the sun remains
gloomy and detached from the orphan's wailings
and the widows' grieving over the senseless loss of
fathers, and husbands, and sons, and life's meaning.
I opened the faucet to splash my face but I'm no longer
hurt by the freezing water running through my hands.
Oh pain, have you too became weary of yourself?
Come then and cry together with my heart for it is not
hardened by the cold nor has it grown numb of sorrow!