Today marks the 6th anniversary of the latest war against Iraq by Western Imperial forces, funded by the surplus labor of U.S. and international workers. They rob us to bomb them. Emma __________________ A Poem At the Break of War March, 19, 2003 By Emma Rosenthal i can kill the mirror of my own likeness if i do not recognize myself i can kill you if i do not know that killing you is killing you i can kill you if i believe you kill me i can kill you if i have been shattered i can kill you if i love the sound of shattered glass i can kill you if i want your death more than i want my life i can kill you if i think the general is part of me i can kill you if i love the flag more than the blood that soaks it i can kill you if red hands walk down cat walk runways i can kill you for greed i can kill you for fashion i can kill you for land i can kill you if i have no memory i can kill you if memory tells me to i can kill you if i abhor the womb i can kill you if i despise the breast i can kill you if the phallus is a weapon i can kill you if your children scare me and i wage a war against youth i can kill you if i hate music i can kill you if that song keeps playing in my head i can kill you if the general sings lullabies to me while i sleep while the general wages war against me i can kill you if i believe the war is waged for me i can kill you for privilege i can kill you for expedience i can kill you for luxury i can kill you if i forget that killing you is killing me i cannot kill you for truth or hope i cannot kill you if i know who i see in the mirror i cannot kill you if i love the womb i cannot kill you if milk issues from my breasts i cannot kill you if i know the phallus brings the possibility of life through the tightness of connection i cannot kill you if i love windy days on open cliffs i cannot kill you if the songs of birds wake me before the generals lull me to sleep i cannot kill you if my skin wakes up electric i cannot kill you if i have been taught to think i cannot kill you if i see you when i look in the mirror i cannot kill you if your name dances in my mind i cannot kill you if i dance naked in the rain i cannot kill you if i see you naked and i love your wounds i cannot kill you if the tides tell the time and the moon lights the night i cannot kill you if i live on this rock in space and i know we live together i cannot kill you if our words touch i cannot kill you if i know you bleed i cannot kill you if i hear your voice i cannot kill you if i hear your prayers and chant them with you i cannot kill you if i know your innocence i cannot kill you if i see your children resting in your arms i cannot kill you if i love the general and call him home i cannot kill you if there is a river in my heart ************* This battle Emma Rosenthal forswears a war based on lies whispered in the night in panic stored under pillows in centuries of fear this battle invites the complexity of your existence the embrace of one we have been told to hate love against terror passion over dominion this battle affirms revelation the rejection of lies in thirty second sound bytes greedy promises false alliance this battle implores we understand the complexion of wealth the essence of water the sanctity of land the wall between neighbors this battle requires a fight with open hands and broken heart i am not afraid to show you my wounds nor tend to yours nor am i afraid of connection or honest deliberation this battle commands diligent study patient instruction honors life through righteous living requires that i do not avert my eyes that i insist you look at mine this battle asserts that i sleep soundly that i not disturb growing seedlings worship the simple sacred the sanctity of skin and blood and bone and sex wishes tenderness whispers embracing kindness imploring me to take you in deeply this battle grasps the intimacy of risk love: the ultimate rebellion courage of the unarmed cup in hand offering sustenance to those who would speak ill of us and do us harm this battle enlists the soldier: calling him home drawing a circle in the sand together, all of us no lines and battlefields no body bags the smell of death this battle realizes the generals will not bring us truth when they kill you i must hear the absence of your breath the silencing of voices never heard the ashes of flesh, untouched diminished faces never seen this battle obliges that we rend our clothes bow our heads take in your death as if you were our sister our lover our child this battle demands we carry you pressed in a book of poems the battle cry of hope against the thunder clouds of bombs and sirens this battle enjoins us bound together i wipe the tears from your cheek as if they were my own holding tightly you to me against the machine that would take you away from us forever ©2003 Emma Rosenthal All Rights Reserved. Permission to copy or forward in its entirety.
