0 commentsI wrote this poem in the run-up to the war in Iraq in March of 2003.
Who doesn’t want peace?
Who doesn’t prefer
A white jasmine wind,
Or an amber dawn
To the black unveiling
of bombs?
Who doesn’t love to love
And be loved by saline lips?
We are strong as magnets:
In order to hold together
We divide until a no-man’s land
Fuses our disarray,
And to surrender to the center
Is to die.
Who doesn’t want peace?
We disagree, opine, demonstrate,
Raise arms, palms, prayers, shouts--
We agree, unite, stare off into discontent,
Drop bombs, flags, clothes, lies and truths.
And now I ask you, as a poet
Caught between your truth
And my truth, my lies
And your lies,
What will become of my poems
After we damn the last river,
Destroy the last forest,
Culture, life?
Who will read my work
When the last soldier dies
In the name of peace?
What will happen to
Our disagreement
If mankind kills itself?
When all was said and done,
Who did not want peace?
monday, march 23rd, 2003
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