Saturday, December 27, 2008


I walked this morning with my briefcase
And all I heard were voices
Reverberating like song
As the day began to emerge.

I walked this morning with my briefcase
For I was going to work
Then the peace was ended
Political action

The rockets descended
For no human can see the force
Behind such mass destruction
Behind cloaked, ignorant laws.

They pounded the ground around me
I stood, briefcase in hand,
Craters threw out corpses
Children bled
Once the ground again
They found.

Alarms rang out in chaos
The echo of every bomb
For they know not the intruder
The invisible coward

Hoards began to usher
The wounded
The dead
To other places
But their plight once arriving
Piles of people
Piles of faces.

The blood ran beneath my feet
My grip consuming my briefcase
Concrete showered the streets
Fire screened the waste.

But above the military crescendos
Above fire and smoke and blood
Were the screams, the ailing voices
The screams, the screams a flood.

Into the vacuum they bellowed
Into the vacuum, consumed
For who hears the scream of the innocent?

Not even those who planned, who loomed
Above the night, the dawn
Above the baby and nurse
Above the Chief of Police
Above the stranded pawn

For this is not a time for consideration
Of peace, of justice nor love
This is the war of man
And all that he does covet.

My briefcase was of course empty
I walk each day only to pretend
That my life has any function
In this walled hovel, this existential dead-end.
Clinging to it now, as I stand unable to move
I cannot even believe in the children
As my means to what could improve,
Taken in the name of justice
Yet they took justice to the grave
For where the just are slain in innocence
They take the glory with which to save,

Tom Scott, Irish
Kilcoole, Ireland

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