I rise again from a tousled bed
into the darkest night.
No lights are yet lit in my neighbors’ homes.
Yet, I do not feel entirely alone.
Ghosts of those who fought earlier wars
lie beside me, and make their cares my own.
Their warnings bubble to the surface
as the tea kettle heats, whistles and warns.
The silence of the night blasts so loud
I believe I hear bombs, missiles and drones
falling onto rooftops, and yards, and neighbors;
in every American neighborhood, and my own.
In this neighborhood, where there is so little fear,
where we have never the devastation of war known.
The detestation of war, too often, is mine alone.
Those who have never gone to war
make war too easily,
Talk about death and destruction
relaxed and breezily.
They send others to march, to fight, to die;
after picking the pockets of the working class
and poor, they select our children to go to war.
Selective service is still in force, but not enforced
lest children of the wealthy have to declare
bone spurs, bad knees, or thinning hair.
Another example of the war made against our own
picking our pockets of hard-earned cash
to wage wars from febrile minds heatedly grown,
while treating our young men and women like trash.
While war protects the the few, their assets and reputations,
it forcefully destroys our chaotically-controlled nation.
The silent night screams out
to waken me with blasts and shouts,
“Make war no more!”
“Make war no more!”
We have no excuses.
Not any more.
Are you awake yet?
annarino writes 