image: The body of an Iraqi civilian at a hospital in Kirkuk. A study by Iraq Body Count and the Oxford Research Group found that almost 25,000 Iraqi civilians have been killed since US and British troops invaded the country two years ago, an average of 34 every single day.(AFP/File)
Cross-posted at DailyKos, Booman Tribune, European Tribune, and My Left Wing
image and poem below the fold
Strange Meeting
by Wilfred Owen
It seemed that out of battle I escaped
Down some profound dull tunnel, long since scooped
Through granites which titanic wars had groined.
Yet also there encumbered sleepers groaned,
Too fast in thought or death to be bestirred.
Then, as I probed them, one sprang up, and stared
With piteous recognition in fixed eyes,
Lifting distressful hands, as if to bless.
And by his smile, I knew that sullen hall,-
By his dead smile I knew we stood in Hell.
With a thousand pains that vision’s face was grained;
Yet no blood reached there from the upper ground,
And no guns thumped, or down the flues made moan.
“Strange friend,” I said, “here is no cause to mourn.”
“None,” said that other, “save the undone years,
The hopelessness. Whatever hope is yours,
Was my life also, I went hunting wild
After the wildest beauty in the world,
Which lies not calm in eyes, or braided hair,
But mocks the steady running of the hour,
And if it grieves, grieves richlier than here.
For by my glee might many men have laughed,
And of my weeping something had been left,
Which must die now I mean the truth untold,
The pity of war, the pity war distilled.
Now men will go content with what we spoiled,
Or, discontent, boil bloody, and be spilled.
They will be swift with swiftness of the tigress.
None will break ranks, though nations trek from progress.
Courage was mine, and I had mystery,
Wisdom was mine, and I had mastery:
To miss the march of this retreating world
Into vain citadels that are not walled.
Then, when much blood had clogged their chariot-wheels,
I would go up and wash them from sweet wells,
Even with truths that lie too deep for taint.
I would have poured my spirit without stint
But not through wounds; not on the cess of war.
Foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.
I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark: for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now… “
– – –
This diary series is dedicated to all who suffer because of war
support the Iraqi people
support the Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict (CIVIC)
support CARE
support the victims of torture
support the fallen
support the troops
support the troops and the Iraqi people
read This is what John Kerry did today, the diary by lawnorder that prompted this series
read Riverbend’s Bagdhad Burning
read Dahr Jamail’s Iraq Dispatches
read Today in Iraq
read this soldier’s blog
witness every day
Oh dear G-d… but I’ve given up on G-d. G-d is all about death, revenge, torture, killing, women hating…
In Dogma they say it’s an idea. Not a belief. People die and kill over a belief… an idea can be changed, and idea can be IMPROVED, shared. Try to share beliefs, or change them and BANG you’re dead or “not one of us”.
I said something rather loudly about the bumper sticker “One Nation Under G-d” today in the parking lot. I said something along the lines of “effing extremists and their holy wars”… My husband says he sweats razor blades when he’s out with me nowadays because of what I say and stand for.
((((Rub)))) thank you for this daily diary. It should be front paged every day, every where.
“It should be front paged every day, every where. “
I totally agree. And after reading Maryscott’s diary and crying for the afternoon, I believe for every day that we continue in this atrocity of a war George W. Fucking Bush should have these pictures plopped on his desk and be forced to look at just what he has done.
And every F’ing American that was stupid enough to vote for this warmonging s.o.b should have these pictures delivered to their door with a registration to sign up.