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
cross-posted at MyLeftWing, BooMan Tribune, and my blog.
images and poem below the fold
The body of a bomb attack victim is brought to a hospital morgue in Baghdad January 16, 2007. A car bomb and a suicide bomber killed 60 people and wounded 110 more, including many students blown up as they waited for cars to take them home at the entrance to a university in Baghdad, police said.
REUTERS/Kareem Raheem (IRAQ)
N
by Maurya Simon
Noon. I can connect nothing with nothing.
Perhaps even chaos is cause for celebration.
And perhaps the astrologers are right when they chart
one disaster, one propitious night, one happenstance
of glory to the next so they accrue like an alphabet
in the primer of each person’s life. I read my horoscope
each day, searching for the solitary clue, the sign
signaling my journey’s halt, when I might look up
at last into the stars, connect-the-dots–see, at once,
the bright Virgin standing steadfastly like a silver ship
docked among the midnight swarms, her left hand
beckoning
to me, as if nothing floats between us but the world.
