"You are right Len, these characters that are running our government, have committed so many horrendous crimes, and need to be in prison if not worse. It appears this is not going to happen with this Congress, will it ever, who knows?"
I highlighted the four simple words, only four, sometimes my muse prefers more, but I latched on to those four and could not wipe them from my mind. This fact is not to take away from Diane's full comment which certainly has some teeth. I suppose my muse is to blame for the most part since things usually don't stay in my head for more than a few minutes.
The four words called out to me and stayed with me and I do hope that this poem and video call out and stay with you. I hope they call to you, cry out to you, reverberate in you, highlighting your anger toward such crimes and in some way allows you to filter the rage and turn your indignation into much needed, coherent action...
War delivers something significant
Overlooked in our hurry;
Blindness of its reach
Leading demons to our bed.
Our minds see too late the sacrificed
In its jaws or upon its talons
With “This war, this lie will echo,”
Stomping inside our heads.
There’s not room for much else,
Shrapnel has invited itself in
And eats our guilt with a shovel,
Burrowing to our center.
Another soldier, a child,
Who believes himself impenetrable
Is taken to soil for our charade,
Cold and ashen now.
Where is the anger
For having been wed to this legion,
For standing motionless
As deceit commits so many?
Where’s the indignation?
What have we sacrificed to the ground?
Do we believe we’ve ducked its swipe
And come out unsoiled on the other side?
Now, after we’ve learned, will we
Snuggle up to precious war
And kiss its beneficiaries,
Too afraid to die?
War bends for no one, save for utter defeat.
These are the days of our significance,
These we live, so grab the warring shovel
And bury it of its damnable use!
© 2007 mrp/thepoetryman