This is a poem to be read while thinking about going to war to stop a war.
The Country of War
War comes down
like a hammer,
heavy and hard,
flattening the earth
scorching it
as though a hot iron
had been taken to it,
killing the soft things:
children and horses
love and hope
killing the good
of the earth,
the coolness
of its creeks,
the look of trees
uncurling
their leaves
in late March
or early April.
You smell
this country
before you see it.
_______________________
The above poem is an early draft of a much longer poem that eventually was called "Landscape with Dead Horses." It appears in my book Echoes of Tattered Tongues.
No comments:
Post a Comment