Sunday, October 30, 2005



My generation got high on the fumes of napalm
learning to kill women and children randomly
losing their innocence far from the farms
     and streets where they grew up
reviled, yet loved, by those of us who couldn’t go,
     wouldn’t go to war
lost boys, strangers in a strange land
58,000 killed, 303,616 wounded, 587 captured
     and 1,335 missing in action
dying to preserve the American Way
an ideal whose contempt for other cultures
     staggers the imagination

Your generation gets high on the terror of suicide bombers
learning to fear everyone who isn’t, one of us
the politics of nightmares your daily guide
     to living in panic, giving up freedom
your brothers, your friends are sent to the desert
where they die to keep the wolf from your gates
2000 killed(and counting),11,700 wounded
     yet it goes on and on
while your leaders build a homeland of straw
using you as fodder for their shaky foundation
wake up children there is no safety in silence
     your house is burning

© Bette O’Callaghan

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