January 8, 2010

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  “War does not determine who is right – only who is left”  (Bertrand Russell)

  Today I was sent the link to a beautiful art video.  I had seen it a few months ago, but I loved watching it again.  It is half artistry and half performance art.  It is a totally new medium that I have never seen before.  It is amazing to watch her skill, and to see the beautiful piece of art take from right before your eyes.  And the content of her art is powerful.  She so eloquently talks of the ravages of war – without saying a word.  Here is the link:

  http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=vOhf3OvRXKg

  Since posting this I have been told the words of the folk song:

  “Dark night. Only bullets whistle on steppe.
  Only the wind hoots in wires. Dimly stars flicker.
  In dark night, you favourite (girl) I know you do not sleep.
  And at a cot you secretly wipe tear…”

  I was also informed that the Ukraine lost one-quarter of its population in the war which explains the reactions to many of the people in the audience.

  And while on the subject, I thought I would post a couple of anti-war poems of mine.  The first one here was written shortly after 9/11 when we had invaded Afghanistan.  While grieving over the loss of American lives, I was moved with the lack of compassion on the lives of the innocent Afghanis.  The second poem is a take-off of Wilfred Owen’s classic “Dulce et Decorum Est” and was written after we invaded Iraq with our “shock and awe” bombs killing over 100,000 innocent men women and children and destroying their roads, bridges, and infrastructures so that the survivors had no access to milk, groceries, or hospitals.

  I Grieve for the Slain

  And Have Compassion for the Innocent Victims

   

  I grieve for rescuing firemen, and brave, intrepid policemen killed in their line of duty.

  I grieve for the flight passengers as they entered their 110 story towering inferno coffins.

  The slain WTC occupants at the crash site level and above, burning/falling to death,

  They did not deserve to die as pawns in the bloody game of international terrorism.

   

  And I feel compassion for bereaved spouses and their wondering, questioning children,

  Their friends and co-workers will feel a great loss because of their personal void.

  And I feel for the businesses which have experienced major personnel or financial losses,

  And every aspect of society caught up in the ever-spiraling throes of hyper-vigilance.

   

  I grieve for the brave and innocent dead and have compassion for surviving victims

  Who did not deserve to experience terroristic acts and feel its constant repercussions.

  And I grieve for the dead and have compassion on the innocent victims

  In Afghanistan who do not deserve to experience the terror that fills their daily lives.

   

  I grieve for dead humanitarian UN guards and dead civilians who had done no wrong.

  And the dead Afghanis working in or living near those targeted training camps.

  They did not deserve to feel terrorized by the distant drone of the bombers

  Or the whistle of the missile before seeing a bright flash and being blown to bloody bits.

   

  And I have compassion for the innocent Afghanis who have fled from their homes

  Fearing the terror of errant bombers, off-target missiles, and antipersonnel cluster bombs.

  Knowing that their home will be bomb-razed or ransacked by looters before (or if) returning.

  Choosing the odds of starving or freezing to death rather than staying home being terrorized.

   

  And I have compassion for families fleeing while trying to stay together as a family,

  With no jobs, no income, no land, no hope for the future, and no community,

  Except the rag-tag band of fellow refugees growing in fear and their distrust of the U.S.

  I have compassion for them because they did not deserve to experience this type of terror.

   

  I have compassion on those brave, or foolish enough, to remain at their castle/hovel homes,

  But who have lost their daily connections and jobs, if they were lucky and had one.

  And who have lost their neighbors, their friends, and often fractions of their own families

  By death, or fleeing to places where no phone, no e-mail, and no courier can reach them.

   

  I grieve for the American dead and have compassion on those innocents who hurt here.

  And I grieve for the Afghani dead and have compassion on their living day/night terror.

  I see and hear so much being done for the American victims of terror,

  But where is the compassion in action for the Afghani victims of American terror?

   

  Of the twenty-two most wanted on the Bush-list, none are Afghanis.

  Of those identified in that terrible event of September 11, none were Afghanis.

  Yet the on/off target bombs and missiles are filling body-bags with Afghanis,

  And the tens of thousands of fearful, terrified, winter-refugees are Afghanis.

   

  If we truly grieve, we will grieve for the dead Americans and Afghanis.

  If we have compassion, it will be for all afflicted and all affected.

  I grieve for all deaths and feel compassion for all enough to say “No More Bombs”.

  And I pray to the gods of Grief and Compassion that you do too.

   

  David Kimball

   

  They Too Are Destroyed, Who Do Not Die

   

  If in smothering dreams you too could see

  The tear-streaked face of the mother wailing,

  As she holds the too-still form of her lifeless child,

  With his cold grey face and frozen colorless eyes.

  If you could hear her sobbing as she relates her story

  Of the wasted infant’s life because of blown roads,

  And the useless distant hospital and the lack of milk,

  And of her wounded, drafted husband on the front lines.

  My friend, you would not tell with such high zest

  To children eager for some desperate glory,

  The old Lie:  How grand and honorable it is

  To bomb and kill for one’s country.

   

  David Kimball

   

  • 12:35 am
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