Pulling raw numbers from the news, they plot the unnatural,
The storm of shock and awe’s modernity
As it moves across the sand-
Seeking answers within the whirl,
Clues of how to temper the foregone tempest.
Great numbers fall like the rain over their desire.
Urgency swoops in like waves.
This was long after the beast began to calculate;
Crack its first body.
At dawn, like Zeus tossing down thunder, the bombs fell.
They sliced open the sky with screaming,
Throwing flesh and bone
Where the people, of humanity’s cradle,
Stayed for death
Like necks waiting on a blade.
What could they do? They'd no power to foil it.
All they could do, all they could hope for
Was that the statistics missed them,
Skipped their final introduction,
Pythagoras moved blindly past them
And their quaking limbs.
They positioned themselves, set for death to greet them,
“Allahu Akbar” (God is great),
“P(x)=Cx –a” (probability)
Prepared to die unreasonably.
Numbers fell, adding skyward;
Constant data clutching a child's hand.
© 2008 mrp/thepoetryman
Sean Gourley on the Mathematics of War
A tip of the hat to Betmo of Life's Journey
