Taking in account all kinds of things
from the state of the economy
to the state of the union
to the state of amnesia
which like 50 or more states
(kids can name them)
is like a gang rape
in a swedish nursery
or a fire drill in hell --
will someone please inform me
precisely when
we died
or why that
departure, arrival
is
by recorded announcement
put off
and off
and off
Having no tears like
having no money
O where shall I replenish
the springs of my eyes ?
The children ring me round
tin cups in dead hands
clamoring --
'O give me tears
you stole our blood
to make your bread
spun us blindfold
in a game you great ones
we whirl we topple
it's like death except
for death they weep
but for us
no one knows
no one
knows
no
one
knows '
Though Daniel Berrigan is not widely known as a poet (much of his life is spent refusing to compromise with death and crimes of State and the warmakers), I do not know of a truer poet still writing. Nearly alone of Americans his poetry confronts the criminal destruction of Iraq in 1991, the killing, and continued killing of its people through deprivation of medical goods, foods and means of recovery. Amidst so many silently reaping the rewards of that war and the next, his work gives hope. This poem originally appeared in The Victory of Grass: Amercan Salaam Iraqi, edited by Sr. Eileen Storey, sc; New York: Aletheia School of Prayer, 1991. - J.B.Gerald