this diary is dedicated to all who suffer because of war
we love and support our troops, just as we love and support the Iraqi people – without exception, or precondition, or judgment
we have no sympathy for the devil.
we acknowledge the power to act that is in us
image and poem below the fold
Iraqi women grieve in Baghdad’s Kindi hospital, Iraq, Thursday, Dec. 28, 2006, after identifying one of the bodies of the victims of a bomb explosion as their relative. Three bombs went off in Baghdad’s commercial areas killing 23 persons and wounding scores, police said.
(AP Photo/Karim Kadim)
Curse
by Pablo Neruda
translated by Donald D. Walsh
Furrowed motherland, I swear that in your ashes
you will be born like a flower of eternal water
I swear that from your mouth of thirst will come to the air
the petals of bread, the spilt
inaugurated flower. Cursed,
cursed, cursed be those who with an ax and serpent
came to your earthly arena, cursed those
who waited for this day to open the door
of the dwelling to the moor and the bandit:
What have you achieved? Bring, bring the lamp,
see the soaked earth, see the blackened little bone
eaten by the flames, the garment
of murdered Spain.