Poets Against War continues the tradition of socially engaged poetry by creating venues for poetry as a voice against war, tyranny and oppression.
janice la pinta
53 years old
I am a 53-year-old mother of three from the midwestern U.S.
The Grave at Dasht-e Leili
“Parched, desolate expanse” Apt description of the final resting place for those whose lives had torturously been sucked out of them. Stuffed like waste in sealed canisters given originally for their "relief."
Strings of prayer beads, (Yes, they were taught, much like you, to pray) A woolen skull cap, shoes. Scattered tibia, pelvic bone, and ribs. Someone’s being, only the day before. The enemy, who once was ally, used until not needed. So turn, and look the other way. Retribution
A happy wedding party, a hospital of mercy, semblance of daily life among the ruins, Then "Poof," in an instant, shattered shreds of death. “Oh, sorry ‘bout that,” Collateral damage.
Might makes right, right? If the happenstance of being born in one part of the earth or the other gives you the advantage, then use it for the good only. Killing only begets killing You kill me, so I kill you, then you kill me, so I kill you more, (The mentality of gangs) Back and forth and back again. Do you think by retribution You can bring one victim back?
Killing only begets killing, Just wait and see.
In the Name of Religion
Christian-militia?? Where's George Carlin's take on oxy-morons when we need it?
Whose side is God on, anyway? How we make a show of praying to the "Prince of Peace" While with all fervent allegiance we worship, instead, the close-minded, nationalistic, self-serving "God of War," and sacrifice our sons in the fire. We have turned God into an object of our own desires The "god of our bellies" so to speak. (and he comes in cloths of many colors)
Could you ever imagine Christ Jesus, (or Buddha, or Ghandi, or any other 'holy' man) armed to the teeth complete with ammo belt, and with an Uzi in his hand? Remember it was said by one who preached truth, "He who takes up the sword will perish by the sword"? 'We reap what we sow'
The Girl in the Green and Gold Dress
...Lying in the arms of her father. both dead.
I didn't know them, but my imaginings, after the fact, after I saw them, compel me to connect to what came before, to what had been their lives.
I had killed them.
Money was bursting from the pocket of the man's shirt, as his body lay in the hot sun and the dusty road. Blood soaked scattered money, probably the sum of all his worldly goods. Money that couldn't save him.
The little child had been dressed for travel, in what was probably her very prettiest, very best dress.
She could have been my child.
Maybe they had planned to meet relatives somewhere over the border. Somewhere safe, away from here.
I think she was four, or maybe five. A sweet, round face, at least what was left of it. I wonder if she had been afraid. I can see her father telling her, "It will be alright, darling one. These men will help us."
I had been afraid. I didn't know why I was there, who was enemy or who was not. We were told "Shoot anything that moves." Was that little innocent child an enemy? Was her freedom worth her life? Was all she was supposed to see of it these few short years only?
Are these the 'sacrifices' that we should be proud of?
