Reflections on a subtitled movie seen
in Boulder, 1963
Defeated Japanese soldiers,
abandoned on a small Pacific Island,
argued over what to do,
how to find food. They fought,
killed, eventually ate
each other.
The last one
carried his ragged
childhood doll, like those laced
to kamikaze pilots. He stumbled
to a western bluff where a black
and white sunset oiled calm water.
Sitting on a broad […]
Sharply dressed
State Patrol people
encourage us ferry riders to relax.
Mothers in airports are asked to taste
their bottled breast milk,
while web sites award prizes
to the most stupid of these measures.
In Iraq a new orphan,
both arms blown off,
knows life will never be
the same.
U.S. Plans Lightning Strikes;
Terrorism Alert Raised to ‘High.’
Our weekly
compassionate listening circle
takes in this small room,
where I lie next
to a young German man,
holding his hand.
He sobs and chatters
through Holocaust guilt,
his father’s silence,
and the sense that his people
are flawed, cracked.
He believes that evil
may emerge at any time,
sucking him into
a violent darkness.
A son of the American South,
I listen.
The camera angle clarifies.
The Gaza landscape is open.
There are only these things:
a young woman wearing
a bright orange jacket,
her bullhorn,
the protected Israeli soldier-operator
of the huge US-supplied bulldozer,
And fear.
Down with the demonstrator!
Down with the house!
Down with life!
Down.
February 2, 2003
Today, seven astronauts exploded high in the sky.
Seven skiers perished under Canadian snows.
Thirty-three shoppers burned in a Chinese mall.
While our nation prepared to shock
and awe the people of the Middle East.
All of this makes it difficult
to smile for the camera.
This is not a problem for the children,
riding high on parents’ shoulders.
