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Dark Poetry #3
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More War
| Dark Poetry #3 |
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More War |
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Barbara Trautman Member
since 2002-10-23
Posts 90 |
READING THE NEWS Newspapers come at dawn When the sky is partly cloudy The air smelling clean and sweet Flowers blooming, lawns green. The morning air was soft and sweet I opened the paper and looked again My eyes fell on the front page Where pictures tore at my heart. A young man’s face leapt out at me Contorted, angry, fearful No more than twenty, maybe less Gesturing wildly, mouth open, eyes squinched. I stared at him though he couldn’t see me The tension in his stance frightening His eyes frightened, too Someone’s son, someone’s lover. Across from him squats another boy Mouth open, hand frozen in mid-air Burdened with packs, guns and a war A war he didn’t start but now must fight. The bridge they stand on in shambles The country they fight, foreign soil Fear fills their air, smoke in their eyes One soldier lies where he fell, now dead. Another section, “The Nation at War” Another picture, several young Americans Play-acting Sadam in his palace, sitting in his chair Their faces look guilty, as though caught at play. Rubble surrounds them of elegance once fine The boys are alive and talking their leisure One moment of play at a time Guns once a plaything, now a reality. On the next page, another picture Of father and his son, reunited Separated for many years By wars neither ever wanted. Someday, soon, we all hope Some of these young men will return Back to their wives, girlfriends and jobs Leaving armored suits, chemical warfare and guns behind. Who will they be when they hug their mothers close Will they be the young men who went to war War makes the adrenalin flow Boys become men. They will have looked the enemy in the eye They will have killed and maimed They will have become accustomed To living lives on the edge of death. On one page are women and children Waving and smiling, apparently gleeful But on the next page are more young soldiers Crouching in a fog of smoke, guns drawn. Some will go home to the arms of family Many will make the trip in body bags Their eyes will be closed to our green lawns To our soft spring air, never to enjoy again. Who started this war? Did they ask permission? Did the young men say they wanted to fight a war A war so far from here, they didn’t know where Did their parents say they wanted this to happen? The anguish, the pain, fear, hurt Statues being toppled by jubilant crowds Buildings looted by laughing people Soldiers kneeling, eyes watchful, guns drawn. Civilians not declaring their intent Soldiers fire, fearing for their safety Medics tenderly, lovingly care for an injured child Bravery, blood, kisses and more kisses. This war so terrible, so awful We, the invaders, they, the hometown people We don’t hate them, but they hate us When shooting stops, what then? The young men, no longer boys Innocence blunted by blood Girls left behind remain the same The soldiers are products of war. |
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| © Copyright 2003 Barbara Trautman - All Rights Reserved | |||
Musicmaker1969 
since 2000-06-25
Posts 589Peterborough, Ontario Canada |
A very well written poem. It's like some of mine - long but needed to make the point. Very well written. Jesus lives in my heart! |
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