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Mourning the Dead / Pleading for Peace
As I watch the shock and awe - full
bombing! bombing! bombing! of Baghdad,
I begin to sense that life energy “Ling particles”
of Iraqi children being killed and terrorized
are hiding out in my barren womb
to insure they will not reincarnate too soon.
My belly swells and aches and I cry saltwater oceans
for the atrocities
perpetrated by people who look like me, speak
the same English, though not the same language.
I long to give birth, through painful labor, to words
so clear and honest and powerful that we will
eagerly rip the scales from our eyes and gain the
raw courage to face the beauty of this earth and
the ugliness of the war against her, But my psyche
is so wounded, so weighed down with collective guilt
that I am just sitting here, trying to remember
the Chinese word for peace.
Through war we “Americans” have all inherited
bloody hands and nuclear fallout and we fall down
and we fall under the power of desire for what
others have and we reach our bloody hands
..... we reach and bleed our humanity in
exchange for comfort, for convenience.
Just under our skin is the knowing that we enjoy a lifestyle dependent on poverty and human rights violations in the rest of the world, as well as in this
land of the “free”.
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