Poem: Blood
After Afghanistan, or in the run-up to it. I guess I was going for something of the rhythm of Auden's 'September 1, 1939' which saturated the Net in those weeks.
The big moral question put to me was: Our brave men in uniform are willing to give their lives for our 'freedom', who are YOU to object?
And it's still a good question. On what authority can I call fighting people to peace, when peace for them may mean desolation of all they hold sacred? What am I willing to sacrifice for peace, if peace indeed comes by sacrifice?
I never did travel to a war zone. I would like to support those peace workers who do go though.
Blood
You say that only blood
can wash the earth -
of crime, and terror,
bankers' debts accrued
that pain has been the
engine of rebirth
since heroes learned to hate
the gods they slew -
I see your talking mouths
on every screen
in concrete bunkers
or in boardroom chairs
resplendent in your passion,
you careen
from holocaust to jihad
and declare
"Our noble cause is righteous -
None before
Have chanced upon this
Whiter, Brighter, Way
This is our best salvation:
Total war
This is your only freedom:
To obey"
and we, who after decades
of command
have learned to kiss the bomb
and serve the fries
forgive us if we do not
understand
why demons lurk
in starving children's eyes
You say that blood is power -
then this blood
of mine, perhaps, will travel
to a place
where righteous missiles
rain in killing flood
from holy satellites
in Western space
And if my blood should stand
between the stars
and oil seeping from the
broken land
perhaps I would be justified
to ask
that Time put down her gun,
reach out her hand
And if not - love has fortunes,
same as war
And blood for blood breeds blood -
but love breeds more.
