TWO THOUSAND AND COUNTING . . .

1,998 . . .

ON TUESDAY, OCTOBER 25, as I lay in bed listening to the early morning news on the radio, the above number was the American casualty count in Iraq. “Just two shy of the two thousand mark,” said the DJ. When I came home later that evening just in time for the evening news, we had reached the 2,000 mark.

2,000 AMERICAN SOLDIERS dead.

AND YOU KNOW what Bush said: “Stay the course.” As if the more soldiers we lose, the more justified this war becomes. Guess what, George? It doesn’t. This war will never be justifiable.

OF COURSE, THE Iraqi civilian count is much higher. And the number of people who die by gunfire in Chicago and other American cities surpasses the 400-500 mark every year.

I WROTE THE following poem in 1991, when Bush Sr. ordered the first invasion of Iraq. I remembered being very scared for my son, who was 9 at the time. Flash forward 14 years later and here we are again, back in Iraq, with Bush’s spawn, Bush Jr. I’m even more scared for my son now, who is of draft age. I revised the poem a little in 2002 after Bush Jr. convinced much of the country that Iraq had weapons of mass destruction, but I didn’t change much.

THIS PIECE IS not anti-USA, anti-male, or anti-Bush (alright, who am I kidding?), just anti-war, and pro-motherhood/pro-peace.


On the Eve of Armageddon

If we ran the world
There’d be no such thing as war
It’s as simple as the fact
that we, as mothers
live to see our sons
emerge from wet amniotic sacs
and not from bloody body bags
we’re not afraid to shed tears --
a sign of weakness
a weakness to have them
outlive us the way
it’s supposed to be

heroic words and speeches
about doing their job and
standing behind our men
all brainwashed lies
we got to keep fighting
to keep our country free
hypocritical redundancy
if fighting kept us free
why must we keep fighting

young protestors tie up
loop traffic on michigan avenue
outta the way communist
yells the wwII vet
on his way home to
his 10-room north shore home
with the swimming pool
in the back
I fought for where I am --
It’s your turn
while the vietnam vet
echoes hell no, we won't go
again

think about it
do you think
the great white fathers in DC
care about the brown people
of this earth
indians, africans, vietnamese,
kuwaitis, afghans, iraqis
the so-called uncivilized masses
a people tricked ripped-off
killed off and mowed over
to pave the gold-lined streets
of america the beautiful
it is about oil
and manifest destiny
and egos and pride
and snips and snails
and puppy dog tails
that boys and men are so famous for
and never, ever against
weapons of mass destruction
there’s always an underlying reason

and in the end
when they’re done
playing chicken and other games
with our futures
when all the babies
and their mothers who were in the way
have been legally murdered
because that’s what happens
in wartime and it can’t be helped
when the chemical weapons
and the H-bombs are exhausted
and they have no where to run
cause there will be no where to hide
from the fallout of Armageddon
they (those unlucky enough to
still be alive)
will look for us
who can no longer bear the children
to carry on this planet
and cry
why
didn't we listen
to the weaker sex
sing the song of
peace.

--copyright 1991, 2002 by Xenia Ruíz

Peace out...