NaPoWriMo #16

Today at the bus stop I was thinking about the explosions in Boston, about terrorism, about war.  And this poem came:

The war comes home
baring teeth
painting red the streets
people spread like smoke
what they didn’t do
a million silent yeses
that threw justice out the blown-out window
wrapped in vengeance
tell ourselves tell ourselves
she didn’t cry for us
she didn’t cry
she pointed     we didn’t see

The war comes home
half-alive, half-anywhere else
shoved in corners   shoved in closets
for help, but soldiers are strong
man enough to live through these
many half-seen atrocities
and half-felt victories
they say     they say
but mothers mourn and fathers weep

still we tell eagles
tear apart worlds
for our glory          be glory
eat doves and don’t speak

and the war comes home.

© 2013 Robin A. Sams


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