Remember the toddler lying face down on the sand, and the waves gently receding from his body as if a forgotten dream?
My poem will not turn him onto his back and lift him up to his feet so he can run into a familiar lap like before. I am sorry my poem will not block the shells when they fall onto a sleeping town, will not stop the buildings from collapsing around their residents, will not pick up the broken-leg flower from under the shrapnel, will not raise the dead. My poem will not defuse the bomb in the public square. It will soon explode where the girl insists that her father buy her gum. My poem will not rush them to leave the place and ride the car that will just miss the explosion. Many mistakes in life will not be corrected by my poem. Questions will not be answered. I am sorry my poem will not save you. My poem cannot return all of your losses, not even some of them, and those who went far away my poem won’t know how to bring them back to their lovers. I am sorry. I don’t know why the birds sing during their crossings over our ruins. Their songs will not save us, although, in the chilliest times, they keep us warm, and when we need to touch the soul to know it’s not dead, their songs give us that touch. From In Her Feminine Sign (New Directions Press, 2019) by Dunya Mikhail
Useful in the pages After a journal This is how before is worthless Your an adult The responsible is your enemy Your poem is over The journalism is critical and will not cease until the files weigh down the responsible with a new war of unreasonable critical exacting report Unearthing another leader As the war lines become visible in fronts ahead of your hands Your worthless afterlife is spent Being wars One after anotheragi Your instincts ar The deceit opens This is life
In any country the general assembly contains itself That function Is ignored The joy is taken early The settlement of life began an ice age Ago Your instincts are killed in inanimate stockpiles won by you and your inheritance The opposition in function is contaminate by foolish exposure to power
A name will not fall, The assembly is fractured and war is spilt in repeated expenditure of continent, as it wouldn't seem itself shut The purse strings cannot be cut This is ill robbery of freedom and peace
And yet your life is payed for by taxpayer? What war is suffered by you?
Harbor House and 80 East Hillcrest privatized thoughts of homeless shelter in madness Acquiring all donation rights as commodity
Before Harbor House admin was appointed as a volunteer I watched generous donations of 15,000$ come in Routinely Now, homekey fraud
From years in homeless court community service to no clothes or allowance of dignified entrance into any of our 7 churches
From years in homeless court community service to no clothes or allowance of dignified entrance into any of our 7 churches #asmirwin #declanwalsh #repbrownley #aoc #elizabethwarren #cagovernor #nytimes #latimes #washingtonpost