Sadaam’s Statue Falls, 4.9.03

Sadaam’s Statue Falls, 4.9.03


Three weeks ago,
I felt an odd guilt
about invading Iraq.

Today, I am grateful,
that scores of humans,
for at least a few hours,
would not be torn apart by
screaming metal,
searing fire.

Today, I am sad,
sad for the loved ones
in San Diego,
in Karbala,
in Twenty-Nine Palms,
inTikrit,
in Des Moines,
in Al Kut.
I am sad
for the children of Basrah,
released from five years’ captivity,
only to rejoin a world of
looting and vengeance.
I am sad for
the well-meaning anti-war souls
whose legitimacy can be somehow
toppled like a statue.
I am sad
for the young warrior
who will be the last to die in Iraq.
What will be his name?
What will be her legacy?

Today, I am worried.
I am worried this pyrrhic victory
will inspire more preemptive strikes,
when what are needed are
preemptive education and
preemptive medicine and
preemptive food.

Three weeks ago
I feared that,
for one modern-day,
Arabic-speaking FDR,
the first dropped bomb
marked our own day of infamy.

Today, I am reminded
again, yet again,
how no one
hates war more
than the warrior

Today, I am aware,
once more, yet once more,
that wars are fought
by our children,
and by theirs.

Today, I know
that thousands will die,
more will be crippled,
and then, yes then,
there will be
another war.

Today, I am alone,
trying to not think of it,
any of it.