this diary is dedicated to all who suffer because of war and other disasters
cross-posted at DailyKos, Booman Tribune, European Tribune, and My Left Wing.
3 images and poem below the fold
A man pulls his shirt as he mourns the death of his relative killed by a suicide bomber who drove his pickup into a crowded petrol station in Samarra, Iraq, Saturday, Nov. 26, 2005. Twelve people were killed, Iraqi police said.
(AP Photo/Hameed Rasheed)
A man grieves near the dead body of his relative killed by a suicide bomber who drove his pickup into a crowded gasoline station in Samarra, Iraq, Saturday, Nov. 26, 2005. Twelve people were killed, Iraqi police said.
(AP Photo/Hameed Rasheed)
Iraqi children look at the burning wreckage of a car bomb that exploded near a two-car convoy carrying foreigners through central Baghdad, Iraq, Saturday, Nov. 26, 2005, killing four Iraqi civilians. No one in the convoy was injured, but one of the armored cars was damaged and removed by U.S. forces. The foreigners were not immediately identified, but none of them were injured, Iraqi police said.
(AP Photo/Hadi Mizban)
Under One Small Star
by Wislawa Szymborska
My apologies to chance for calling it necessity
My apologies to necessity if I’m mistaken, after all.
Please, don’t be angry, happiness, that I take you as my due.
May my dead be patient with the way my memories fade.
My apologies to time for all the world I overlook each second.
My apologies to past loves for thinking that the latest is the first.
Forgive me, distant wars, for bringing flowers home.
Forgive me, open wounds, for pricking my finger.
I apologise for my record of minuets to those who cry from the depths.
I apologise to those who wait in railway stations for being asleep today at
five a.m.
Pardon me, hounded hope, for laughing from time to time.
Pardon me, deserts, that I don’t rush to you bearing a spoonful of water.
And you, falcon, unchanging year after year, always in the same cage,
you gaze always fixed on the same point in space,
forgive me, even if it turns out you were stuffed.
My apologies to the felled tree for the table’s four legs.
My apologies to great questions for small answers.
Truth, please don’t pay me much attention.
Dignity please be magnanimous.
Bear with me, O mystery of existence, as I pluck the occasional thread from
your train.
Soul, don’t take offense that I’ve only got you now and then.
My apologies to everyone that I can’t be everywhere at once.
My apologies to everyone that I can’t be each woman and each man.
I know that I won’t be justified as long as I live,
since I myself stand in my own way.
Don’t bear me ill will, speech, that I borrow weighty words,
then labor heavily so that they may seem light.
– – –
read Ilona’s important diary at MLW – Returning Vet PTSD – One Soldier’s Story
view the pbs newshour silent honor roll (with thanks to jimstaro at booman.)
take a private moment to light one candle among many (with thanks to TXSharon)
support Veterans for Peace
support the Iraqi people
support the Campaign for Innocent Victims in Conflict (CIVIC)
support CARE
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
support Military families Speak Out
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
witness every day