|
He had that look, the
empty, lonely,
Futility-of-war
look.
He tried to look at
me,
But
there was nothing in his eyes.
Empty…emptier than
skies
Without
a dawn….
Or even a hope of dawn.
Without a cry, where
the only word,
Even
among the stars, is goodbye.
Where are the other
words? Are there any
In
the evensong of birds?
Will no one say, peace….home…...soon
Tomorrow…?
Are the cries
white?….black?….bearded?
or
turbaned?
Is it Allah among the
rocks?
Or
Jesus, where he bleeds?
Is it in caves or in
front of friends
That
he weeps?
What dread voice sent
him here?
Is
he dying for a mistake?
Oh,
please God, not for a mistake.
Then
he closed his eyes.
Harold Buckley
August
2005
|