(a prose song)
Someone in a smart suit in a comfortable house far from the whirring drones, the dropping bombs, far from the killing lines, is making money; consuming resources, manufacturing and selling war machinery, crushing cities, destroying lives, poisoning environments. Ching! Ching!
At home we are sold “us versus them” ideologies; our noble, righteous cause versus their dangerous, rapacious intentions. Our brave men, our strong soldiers run up against an ugly, brutal Enemy … but there is no Enemy, only brave men, strong soldiers running up against … Sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, uncles, aunts—all. Too much hate, too much grief, too much misunderstanding.
Someone in a smart suit in a comfortable house far from the whirring drones, the dropping bombs, far from the killing lines, is making money; consuming resources, manufacturing and selling war machinery, crushing cities, destroying lives, poisoning environments. Ching! Ching!
The war memorial— reflection pool, flowing water —stands clean cut against the sky and silent. A honeypot of emotion, sadness and nostalgia, cast in bronze, cut in stone, names, places, battles, battalions, brigades, platoons… But where are the broken, torn bodies, the wailing and whimpers of the wounded dying, the piles of rubble, the wretched, broken weeping of the heavy thread of the scavenging, searching survivors, the dark screaming silence, the sparrows, the crows, the sprouting weeds? And nowhere the question— why were we there?
Someone in a smart suit in a comfortable house far from the whirring drones, the dropping bombs, far from the killing lines, is making money; consuming resources, manufacturing and selling war machinery, crushing cities, destroying lives, poisoning environments. Ching! Ching!
Son our sons! War never again! For thousands of years philosophers, prophets, holy men have called for tolerance and understanding. As we fall down to anger so we must rise up to peace. No war! Come together for peace! On the streets the thousands march, we march. We shout to the sky, feel the smallness of our bodies and the hugeness of our demand. Peace not war! Pray for peace! Bring troops home now! End the war!
Someone in a smart suit in a comfortable house far from the whirring drones, the dropping bombs, far from the killing lines, is making money; consuming resources, manufacturing and selling war machinery, crushing cities, destroying lives, poisoning environments. Ching! Ching!
October 2023
