I wrote this poem in the run-up to the war in Iraq in March of 2003.

Who doesn’t want peace?

Who doesn’t prefer

A white jasmine wind,

Or an amber dawn

To the black unveiling

of bombs?

Who doesn’t love to love

And be loved by saline lips?

We are strong as magnets:

In order to hold together

We divide until a no-man’s land

Fuses our disarray,

And to surrender to the center

Is to die.

Who doesn’t want peace?

We disagree, opine, demonstrate,

Raise arms, palms, prayers, shouts–

We agree, unite, stare off into discontent,

Drop bombs, flags, clothes, lies and truths.

And now I ask you, as a poet

Caught between your truth

And my truth, my lies

And your lies,

What will become of my poems

After we damn the last river,

Destroy the last forest,

Culture, life?

Who will read my work

When the last soldier dies

In the name of peace?

What will happen to

Our disagreement

If mankind kills itself?

When all was said and done,

Who did not want peace?

monday, march 23rd, 2003