Mourning Dues
I collect my organs, war after war
Snatch them from the fists of history
From the jaws of Sabra & Shatila,
The sharks of Jenin, the hawks of Fallujah,
And the necro-remains of Rwanda and Darfour
I stitch them together, war after war
And weave myself adieus
Peace by peace, war after war
From Indians to Jews to Musulmans
From Noah to Columbus to the nuclear cortège
Piece by piece, fall after fall
I forge my axe, I edify my wall
While my soul soaks in mourning dues
Between Hope and Despair
The present cannot take up anymore what the future holds in store
for the river will run its course
indifferent to the ocean’s engulfing force
and the birds will nestle in the winter’s backyard and twitter among the leaves
in the shadow of the autumnal hearse
No more scrambling for what the dawn might tell
for history’s scarred face
bears no witness
to devour every dead hour
and prey for more to fall like bodies in the pool of war
No more scrambling for history’s throbbing pace
to deliver us from the traps
of this maddening race to ravish the remains
of tomorrows falling fleece
and sign endless treaties of friendship and peace
For the child out there on the yellowish sand
oblivious to the twilight and the naked cortège of the night
hearkening to the stirring spring of endless motion
his back sensing the sea’s frown
his eyes open a jar to the surrender of the moon and
the rise of the melancholy star
his mind suspended in the folly of creation
continues to build his castle
at the moment
of the swift tidal
fall
on the soft
sand
wall
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