It's awfully tempting to write "war poetry," although only those who have been to war can probably write effective poetry that is literally about war. Those who haven't been to war will write poems at least once-removed from war--but that is not to say such poetry is necessarily less potentially good or important. Randall Jarrell wasn't able to become a pilot in World War II, but he did serve, he did observe, and he did write the unique war poem of six lines, "The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner." Robert Bly opposed the Viet Nam War and combined surrealism and protest to produce some remarkable poems. A whole website devoted to "poets against the war" sprang up after Bush started the war in Iraq. Not long after the U.S. invaded Iraq, I wrote the following poem, which I wanted to be anything but grandiose, partly because I really had to wonder how effectual or even pertinent a poem could be at that point.
Invasion and Birds
On that particular day, USA was invading
a country again. I didn’t know anything
to think that would change USA. Maybe
I was wrong to observe birds. When
the nation claiming you invades another
nation, all actions, including a glance
at birds, seem either right or wrong but
never neutral. A constellation of starlings
took off from a muddy field. Totality
of beating wings made a single, heavy
sound. One robin was left in the field—
a bird dressed like an old professor:
orange sweater-vest, gray jacket. On
a walkway, two juncos flitted,
plump gray nodes of energy. Observing
birds, I knew for sure USA had taken
a wrong turn. I felt myself to be
sad and politically useless
like a weary angle of lost geese,
jet engines coming their way.
Copyright 2007
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