The body of a bomb attack victim is brought to a hospital morgue in Baghdad January 16, 2007. A car bomb and a suicide bomber killed 60 people and wounded 110 more, including many students blown up as they waited for cars to take them home at the entrance to a university in Baghdad, police said.
REUTERS/Kareem Raheem (IRAQ)
N
by Maurya Simon
Noon. I can connect nothing with nothing.
Perhaps even chaos is cause for celebration.
And perhaps the astrologers are right when they chart
one disaster, one propitious night, one happenstance
of glory to the next so they accrue like an alphabet
in the primer of each person's life. I read my horoscope
each day, searching for the solitary clue, the sign
signaling my journey's halt, when I might look up
at last into the stars, connect-the-dots--see, at once,
the bright Virgin standing steadfastly like a silver ship
docked among the midnight swarms, her left hand
beckoning
to me, as if nothing floats between us but the world.
6 comments:
for peace
I witness
For my friend Talib in Baghdad, and his family.
Peace and witness
Witness for peace
Witness.
Mill-Doors
by Carl Sandburg
You never come back.
I say good-by when I see you going in the doors,
The hopeless open doors that call and wait
And take you then for—how many cents a day?
How many cents for the sleepy eyes and fingers?
I say good-by because I know they tap your wrists,
In the dark, in the silence, day by day,
And all the blood of you drop by drop,
And you are old before you are young.
You never come back.
I witness for peace
"I know. But I do not approve. And I am not resigned."
from Dirge Without Music
by Edna St. Vincent Millay
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