Poem #6 - Michael O'Leary

Make Love and War

(for Ani)

                        i

The last train is about to leave

In fact, has left . . .

The cradle of Western Civilization

Is under siege

As the Euphrates burns, a river of flames

Set alight this past decade

By the twin towers of a double burning bush

The new manifestation of Western Civilization

Is engulfing and eating its own parents

USA, teenager of the world

New kid on the old block

With raging hormones of revenge . . .

The last train has pulled out

From the stations of My Lai and Fallujah and Lidice

It doesn’t matter who’s killing ya

If you’re being killed

Talking to someone who fought in Vietnam

Who witnessed the murder of women and children

He claims the SS troops were more honest

Than the Black Hawks up . . .

                        ii

My love comes to me

And baring her beautiful breasts

Before my loving gaze

And soft caress

She gives me the gift

Only a young woman

Can bestow on an older man . . .

The strange healing, and holding up of a mirror

The touch of the goddess . . .

And no matter how humble

His or her beginnings have been

That gift of love, of aroha

Although tainted by temporal concerns

Cannot be lost, as the flow

Of life loosens itself

From its strictures . . .

                       

iii

The doors after perception, open

As does the grave

The tomb beckons to . . .

            The hikoi of Hope

            The procession of Enough

            The long line to the Unknown Soldier

Wending its way through the Wellington streets

Like a river of remembrance  . . .

When its all over

The soldiers remind me of death

My young love’s breasts remind me of love

And now she is gone

And who will say

            “Did you miss me?”