Good god
I just saw the photo of al-Shifa hospital
What's left of it
In the photo people are standing around
No one is looking at the camera
So there are no faces
And that adds to the effect of the photo
War erases faces
It turns people like a strong bitter wind
Or like a gear in a machine
Against other currents and influences in their lives
Just this image of the horror of war
Has power to turn me
For I am helpless
A tiny gear
In the great horrific machine of war
I do not choose to write this poem
I only want to live my day
But I am turned from that possibility against my will
And when I am done I simply look down
....................
This poem is about the horror and shame of war. It starts out with the horror that the photo evoked in me, but the poem is mostly about helplessness and impotence. I am just a tiny gear in the war machine. As an empathetic pacifist poet I am moved by the photo but that is not what I am talking about. I wasn't moved as in inspired to write this poem. I didn't want to write it. I would rather have been free to enjoy my day. I was moved the way someone is moved to lift their shoulders and turn their head aside by a bitter cold wind. Shame in this poem is only the flip side of horror because I can't do a damn thing.
(Article changed on Jun 05, 2024 at 4:25 PM EDT)
