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Showing posts from March 5, 2006

AWKWARD MOMENT

The tightening stroke.
Patrolling the wounded ground.
The shattered glass.
Instability in central parts.
Eerily forsaken streets of Baghdad.

Awkward moment.

Start again.
Green Zone in desert sun.
Firearms lifeless seize.
Why am I here?
Why war?
Why couldn’t it be peace?

Awkward moment.

Start again.
Infection of brutality.
First we murdered their children,
now they carry death
wrapped in shrapnel.

Awkward moment.

Start again.
Perhaps I will hug my mother.
Will yearning yearn?
Will hope be hopeful?
Will carnage turn inward?
Will the power of the sun arise?
Will the sway of good prevail?
Will the soul of man avoid its own demise?

Awkward moment.

Start again.
Tightening eyes.
Moving toward upon wounded ground.
A distant explosion.
It would be easy to turn and run.
But why am I so damned afraid?
Because they are Iraqi?
Brown skin and eyes?
I will stay and greet them.
Will they wave and smile at me?
Will evil have my face?



© 2006 mrp/thepoetryman

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