This poem is about a photo of a young child of about 10, who stares through the broken window of a shot out car. Two women were shot and died at a check point.
The sentiment is, what effect is this war having on the hearts of these young children? And i wonder how do we stop war. When Iraq was pulverised into submission and photos kept coming in the days when I still bought newspapers, I found myself staring over and over at this photo. The women probably in full burka panicked and drove too fast near a roadblock and they were shot. Those shooting were suspicious and shot and yet two women in a car should be able to drive in their country. Then the next issue, it was not US or other soldiers but leased or hired guards so it was impossible to find anyone to blame.
leased war
in the photo
a child stares
into a blood-splattered car
in his heart . . .
what seeds are planted
what tangles and grows
in a harsh elegiac landscape
of desert sand and rubble
two women dead the news said
Shot by hired security guards
answerable to none
they get the job done
with privatised weapons
privatised tanks ammunition
no more mention of the child
growing up in his homeland
a privatised crucible of war