Guest poem sent in by Vidur
(Poem #1189) Survivors
No doubt they'll soon get well; the shock and strain Have caused their stammering, disconnected talk. Of course they're 'longing to go out again,' These boys with old, scared faces, learning to walk. They'll soon forget their haunted nights; their cowed Subjection to the ghosts of friends who died, Their dreams that drip with murder; and they'll be proud Of glorious war that shatter'd all their pride... Men who went out to battle, grim and glad; Children, with eyes that hate you, broken and mad.
so i can't get the impending war out of my head these days. so much so that some nights i don't sleep too well. i don't think i've ever felt this way before. a couple of months ago i read 'dear mr. president', a collection of short stories by gabe hudson. it wasn't a great piece of writing, but it was vivid and energetic in its description of manifestations of the 'gulf war syndrome.' i cannot even begin to fathom the trauma of war. there are numerous poems on war, several superlative ones written at the time of the great wars by the likes of auden, sassoon, owen, and others. 'survivors' is one such poem. i particularly like the way in which it opens with a dispassionate tone - very nonchalant - then toys with irony, and finally strikes with chilling contempt for the advocates of war. what a shame that history has taught us nothing - not even when her lessons are passed down with such eloquence. :vb: