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Poetry

Go to war my fine young man

By Leora Douraghy
July 4, 2003
The Iranian

Go to war, my fine young man!
(Kill as many as you can.)

Go to war to keep us free?
Free to mouth the thoughts of others?
Free to seek the death of brothers?
Or free to state the solemn truth

That Age is quick to martyr Youth
To keep its power and garner more
And send youths to a distant shore
To cause the massive desolation
That could one day shame our nation.

But:
We'll not see the dead and dying, nor see those about to die
While Bombs are dropped, and missiles flying rend the
trembling earth and sky.
So sing:

Oh it's us above, and them below,
No blood, no cries, no pain,
And if they dare to raise their heads,
We'll do it all again. Gung ho!
We'll do it all again?

This is how we settle scores.
(Though these are massacres, not wars.)

-- Chicago,
March 7, 2003

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