Bina Shah March 23, 2003
Tags: Children
Instead of falling asleep with a child safe in my arms,
Or to the gentle breathing of a faithful dog
I fall asleep to the sound of bombs falling on Baghdad.
The television has taken the place of my dreams
Its flickering images transmitting nightmares instead
Flowers of fireworks in the sky.
This
There should be prayers of gratitude for the blessings we have received
Not pleas for mercy from a man who has sent liberators to the desert
To own a land that no one has ever possessed.
Like the Three Wise Men who came with gifts of frankincense and myrrh
To praise the birth of Christ
Their gifts are fixed to the ends of the bayonets on their guns
Encased in the mortar of thousand pound bombs
Gentle fluttering leaflets telling good men
There is no shame in giving up your honor.
They are playing the role of Wise Men and Savior all at once
Their gifts bear beautiful names: liberation, freedom, democracy
The ideas of America, which were always meant to be contagious
But their reasons make no sense to Those who can See
They say the price of war is never cheap
But this was never the way to win hearts that they wish to keep
And this is not the way to send the children of Iraq to sleep.
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