You gotta hand it to ‘em.
They are the masters of persuasion.
They’ve convinced us all,
yes, even me,
that war, like death and taxes
is inevitable, a fact of life.
Odd, too that war
encompasses the other two inevitabilities:
death and taxes: three for one!
They’ve even convinced us
that nobody gets killed in war;
bombs dropp like hailstones,
mines go pow! but life goes on.
Life goes on.
Innocent bystanders,
you’d think, are still standing by,
not lying in eternal repose
below a plastic flower arrangement.
No blood is spilled.
We can’t see it,
so it didn’t happen, right?
Those quadraplegics
and amputees lying in Bagdad
clinics are ghosts, right?
They’re not really there,
merely, ghosts—
nothing to fear.
And every time:
this is the war to end all wars.
But how can this be
if war is inevitable?
Must be one of them zen koans.
Death, taxes, war.
Forget about life, plenty, and peace.
You gotta hand it to ‘em.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Oh you bring new meaning to the phrase 'It's all just happening on TV with this one'. As always, I am impressed. Peace, Aisha