poem: Wreaths

for someone I lost

Wreaths

for VY

 

 

How dare you dictate, to me,

the way I should feel about those kids

fighting over there for your political moves?

Just because it is far easier to rally around anger

and a call to vengeance;

than facts, and temperance-

does not make it right.

Damn it, I want him back- the man

you took from me

and returned a raging boy with a fascination

for arsenals and a love of the bottle;

after his hands were painted with the blood,

of his best friend

who had the audacity to be in the wrong place

at the wrong blasted time.

For I know what it takes to relinquish a loved one

to those burning

endless sands and alien landscapes

where shadows become wraiths

hunting with the intent

to lay wreaths upon the ground

for our kids.

You do not own the bald eagle

and even your Jesus,

I am sorry to say,

never endorsed the flag of any nation.

Nice try.

Patriotism is such a dirty fighting word-

perfect for cornering a thoughtful enemy

into the box with a trapdoor

through which our morality fell

and was hanged

by the neck until dead.

Give me back my man, and give his mother back her son;

then go and tour

a ragged nation where

war’s fist smashed with heavy handed brutality

for decades, and ask yourself-

how great must the damn prize be

to ask anyone to give

this much- their daughters

and sons and dreams;

and landscapes ruint beyond recognition,

in the pitiless gaze of the beast

marching into the deserts past Bethlehem,

in the place

where the ribbons on wreaths

flutter lightly in the breeze-

almost imperceptible

in your blood lust.

It had better be worth your bloody asking price.

Because we’ll endorse cash payments for

technology to kill

but we won’t teach those kids

how to cope with the horror they must live with

when they return

to a land that has forgotten what it means

to look death, especially pointless

in the face and watch it bleed out.

And I tell you it is easier to drop a bomb

than to dig 100 wells

and educate a nation.

So go ahead and tell me I am unpatriotic

but first, give me back the man

you took from me

and tell me again, slowly

so even I understand; 

why your goals

trumped his sanity and the gentle heart he had to give

to this world if only he could remember

how to use it, and stop

waking in the dark to the nightmares

of landscapes slightly less real than your 10^th Circle.

I’ll take my eagle back, thank you, at least I know

what they need

to survive.

Author's Note

I figured it was time I wrote my first piece about the Iraq War, reading so many from others. No offense meant to any who served or know those who did; in fact, quite the opposite. Please take a moment of silence, when you read this, to honor all who were asked to give for this cause; and if you were one of them, you have a moment from me.

A nod to Yeats' "Second Coming" with the line about the beast marching past Bethlehem

This was written for someone real in my life who I love very deeply.

Reviews

[Phibby Venable]

a strong, intelligent cry...
Because we’ll endorse cash payments for

technology to kill

but we won’t teach them

how to cope with the horror they must live with

when they return

to a land that has forgotten what it means

to look death, especially pointless

in the face and watch it bleed out.
Very fine!

[Through the Gateway]

A very powerful cry for clemency from those who would use patriotism as a shield for their own agenda. Truly, how many sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, brothers and sisters have we lost not just to death, but to emptiness of spirit?

This is a very well written piece. Your anger lends itself to the structure of the poem exceptionally well. Very good. Very powerful.

[John McGrael]

great poem :)
im sorry i just now got around to reading this, its been at the bottom of my read requests for quite a while

but seriously, great poem

and i am sorry to see that this poem was written for a real person, because fictional war poems are so much easier to write than real ones
(real ones take so much more emotion, so much more care, so much more tears, than fictional ones)
and this, it seems, is a real one

bravo! :)

[Doctor JKC]

We never gave a moment to understand the hard to understand.
We know nothing about others and treat all other countries that are
not too unlike our own with distaste and outright horror.
Any harm that has come to this country has been engendered
by ignorance and traces of the Inquisition and mostly our own fault.
The biblical religions breed pathology and castigation.
All of this could have been avoided if we had extended a hand
and said, "How can we help you."
Bombs are easier than understanding and aren't we just
an Imperialist nation anyway?
I have a hard time "supporting" the military. They signed on
voluntarily, unlike the draft/conscription during Vietnam. At this point it is all
business and sociopathy plus playing on the ignorant and poor turned into
killing machines given a good brain-washing. Some just have good hearts and think they are doing service. No fault there. I feel for them.
I just want it to stop but we have escalated it all into a "holy' war and
that just does not stop until their own kind deal with the rabid, not us.
I would pull everyone out immediately and secure our borders, oust the illegals,
and turn all action inward towards the infiltrators.
Then turn all force to eradicate the gangs and drug barons. See New Jack City.
Then turn troops into peace-workers to eliminate hunger and poverty in this
country. Also be here when disasters occur like Katrina rather than killing for corporations.
Sincerely,
Jack

[Mark]

At the onset, when you said, "For someone I lost", I of course assumed you meant "had died". How more horrifying, the living death of PTSD and worse, that afflict tender youth forced both to do and to witness what had been unimaginable to them mere months before.
"Easier to drop one bomb than to dig 100 wells..." Very powerful thought!

[Legion]

BRAVO! Stand up and take a bow! This was exceptionally charged with an intensity that only someone who has lived through the stigma and dogma of war (be it a soldier or a soldier's loved one). Kudos. One thing though, consider changing the word "Jesus" to "God" perhaps since not all religions that seem to be involved believe in Jesus, but they all believe in God (no matter what the name). Once again, bravo! I think, if you haven't read it yet, you might like my short poem "Another Christmas Morn: A Soldier's Toast". Check it out sometime when you get a chance.

[Ellen Hammond]

This is a very powerful, thought provoking write. You speak the truth with conviction and strength. It echos my own thoughts on war. Thank you for have the intestinal fortitude to tell it like it is.

[Cool Handless Luke]

Very nice Marie! And I picked up the nod to Yeats - one of my favorites of his. You hit on all the points in a very necessary piece.

[Jason]

wow...this is deep. You grabbed my attention from the very first line and carried me through every line with complete attention to detail. Wonderful job. Totally Brilliant and well thought out work of art.

[Tate Morgan]

I didn't raise my son to be a soldier.
I raised him up to be my pride and joy.
And not to carry a gun upon his shoulder.
To kill some other mothers loving boy.

Excellent
Tate

[Sorry Infamous]

"You do not own the bald eagle
and Jesus," This was powerful and articulate. A strong wail against the ravages of war. You write in that voice that demands people listen in only that way that you can, Marie.