this diary is dedicated to all who suffer because of war and other disasters
image and poem below the fold
Iraqi women mourn near the dead body of Khadim Sarhid al-Hemaiyem, the leader of the Sunni Batta tribe and the brother of a candidate in the Dec. 15 election, in Baghdad, Iraq, Wednesday, Nov. 23, 2005. Gunmen wearing Iraqi army uniforms broke into the home of al-Hemaiyem Wednesday and killed him, his three sons and his son-in-law on the outskirts of Baghdad, his brother and an interior ministry official said.
(AP Photo/Hadi Mizban)
by Wilfred Owen
Move him into the sun–
Gently its touch awoke him once,
At home, whispering of fields unsown.
Always it awoke him, even in France,
Until this morning and this snow.
If anything might rouse him now
The kind old sun will know.
Think how it wakes the seeds–
Woke, once, the clays of a cold star.
Are limbs so dear-achieved, are sides
Full-nerved,–still warm,–too hard to stir?
Was it for this the clay grew tall?
–O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth’s sleep at all?
– – –
read Ilona’s important diary at MLW – Returning Vet PTSD – One Soldier’s Story
support Veterans for Peace
support the Iraqi people
support the Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict (CIVIC)
support the victims of torture
remember the fallen
support Tragedy Assistance Program for Survivors – TAPS
support Gold Star Families for Peace
support the fallen
support the troops
support Iraq Veterans Against the War
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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
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