The absurdity of war...the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month

The River upstream from white sand beaches are hamlets, paddies and canyons bombshells unexploded cratered land cratered faces mangled extremities defective births... the villages have memories nightmares and visions the countryside still echoes we returned to the comfort of our politics and rhetoric leaving a legacy of disfigurement... scarring persons and landscape poisoned food chain poisoned minds blackened hearts... a righteous nation hands over hearts reciting the pledge still preaching to the world hands over ears and eyes still speaking the lies making the guilt safe and tucked away in hospitals and dead-end jobs in parades and sunday services in vfw and legion halls in broken homes in shattered illusions in battered women's shelters in cemeteries rather than learning from our mistakes we adopt a new battle cry... "next time we'll only fight if they'll let us win"... as if that excuses our interventions ***** I wrote this while in Nicaragua in 1988...remembrances from two decades before that... Amen