Tag: bombings

• the mission is too important.

  
  we bomb 
  
  and we bomb 
  
  and we bomb 
  
  and we bomb,
  
  our breaths no longer for sustenance, only fuel;
  
  vindictive, smug in their dustlessness, 
  
  their clarity.
  
  
  
  
  
  we bomb and we bomb and we think nothing of the bombed, 
  
  nothing of our own grandchildren 
  
  whose fates we've sealed into living in rubble.
  
  an elder waves his hand, 
  
  hasn't seen dust in a generation.
  
  his prodigal sons snicker at the suggestion;
  
  soothed, 
  
  spoiled, 
  
  taught to bomb, 
  
  never to befriend or even to look over one’s shoulder.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  our elders die, 
  
  peacefully,
  
  never knowing. 
  
  because now
  
  the bombs will not stop falling -
  
  relentless, almost dull, they can't.
  
  habitual,
  
  instinctive,
  
  our grandchildren will admit they find them a nuisance 
  
  but the murmur is too familiar;
  
  the distant thuds a comfort they rank alongside their lover's heartbeat.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  all the while
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  the winds change
  
  
  
  as they always do,
  
  
  
  
  as they once did for us, remember?
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  the bombed 
  
  also had children
  
  whose children sit now under the shade of military towers their fathers never lived to see.
  
  
  
  
  
  dust rustles listlessly at their ankles,
  
  
  
  
  they turn around, just to check,
  
  
  
  
  
  and then 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  they bomb.

  Feb-28-26

  bombings, death, iran, poem, poetry, quote, space odyssey

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• going about our business.

  we kill each other then we update our charts
  watch our stocks tumble deep into the red
  paw around, vengeful
  clamor to short, to break bloody even
  
  we kill each other, thumb lazily through the chapters our books share
  find we all agree too strongly on 'home;' it simply cannot stand
  so we put bombs in a few playpens
  roll grenades into particular cul-de-sacs
  
  we kill each other, slowly sometimes
  make our rulebooks into beartraps that snare bodies behind chain link fencing
  clear our throats and spit
  toe around in the dirt to busy ourselves while we wait
  
  we kill each other and shrug
  S.W.A.T. our worries away - today,  there are more pressing matters
  but still hinge at the waist when the killing comes for us
  bullets peppering paper mâchéd hallways
  
  dumbfounded
  at the furrowed brows
  our neighbors' pursed lips
  the sight of our own reflection
  

  written following the publication of the chart below, New York Times, Oct-08-23
  written following the death of thousands of people
  written following the death of the first of thousands of people
  written following the death of the latest of thousands of people

  

  Oct-09-23

  bombings, gun violence, migrants, poem, poetry, prison, war

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