lost and found # 2

again...i'm journal sifting for wayside poetry.....right before i moved up here to chacon the u.s. invaded iraq. So while still in albuquerque i took part in an event called peace buzz in which a group of folks read statements or poetry against the war then shaved their heads. I had't cut my hair in 8 years.
anyhoo....this is the poem i concocted for such an event....


constructive rage

I’m thinking
it’s the first thing I can do
to remember that homeless guy that set himself on fire
back in N.Y. when I was 19
his life a sudden torch to the truth of it
said fuck this shit
and just set himself on fire

and when I tell folks that I’m gonna join a group of others to shave our heads
in protest of war
in mourning of the sudden dead
they say “oh erin don’t cut your hair, it’s so pretty
it’ll take so long to grow back”
but…. consider the swelling rolling waves of the dead
on the shores of living
now a title wave encroaching
consider what they say
and really what’s some hair to the crater of bomb and reconstruct
what is it but my own history holding on in a high wind of urgency
what is it to the sound of massacre
a sound I cannot even imagine
swallowed by the ocean of empire
it’s the least I can do to remember the children
torn to pieces
lives buried just buried
the hospitals
have stopped counting
theres too many too many
and it’s the first thing I can do to honor the dead
igniting the truth of it
remembering
recounting
everywhere just everywhere
the mourning of the dead
and the struggle to have life
just life
never mind a latte laptop dsl dvd verizon horizon of pharmaceutical sleep
just even a heartbeat

and holding on in a time of letting go
it’s the least very least and the first thing I can do
to recount the untold dead
staring back at us
recounted
shocked and set aflame
and how awesome the might of the soulless blowing children into bits
and how resilient the souls of children
throwing stones at the empire

and so when folks say “oh erin don’t cut your hair, its so pretty
it’ll take so long to grow back”
I’m thinking
what is it to the crater of bomb and reconstruct
what is it but an arms length of history holding on in a high wind of urgency
and what are we
but a small group of raging beautiful people
what are we
but a ripple in the ocean of hope and resilience
now a title wave encroaching.