Better Places

The announcement was buried, as they say, in today's Arkansas Democrat-Gazette. It was on page 7B in the bottom left hand corner. It told of the Women's International Day to be held tomorrow in Little Rock to protest the war and to celebrate women's achievements. I wondered how, in the capitol city of Arkansas, the event could receive so little attention. Have we become so passe that neither war, nor a celebration of gender, can take us away from our own sacrifice for the war: rampant consumerism? Our men and women are dying in Iraq and Afghanistan while we buy gourmet dog snacks for our pets. I confess these two images are from a recent sermon by Dan, one of Trinity Cathedral's pastors.

I have never quite gotten myself to the point though where I can be a protester in public. I guess I dread being hauled away by the police and seeing the video later of myself being carried away by two big hulking representatives of the law. I have certainly had plenty of chances to become involved. After all, Garlan and I were students in college in the 1960's during Viet Nam, and I would have been much more unobtrusive then among thousands of people rather than now, with a mere 50 women in pink expected at tomorrow's event.

While I cannot protest with others, I will "take the easy way out" and offer a protest, not with pen and quill of the past, but with the computer keys:


Better Places

The Mantras

I. - Spring

Outside the fragrant breeze parted the curtains of the
miniature house into which it blew.
A man and his son silently watched as a pair of robins
repeatedly pecked the March grass beneath their beaks.
The television carried the Presidential speech:
“The world will be a better place;
It is better to fight them there than in the streets of America.”
The son rose, turned on the lamplight, and said,
“I must go.”

II. – Summer

He read his novel by the flickering lights on the army base.
Would he, like Tolstoy, also see a red flower blooming in the desert tomorrow,
or was that simply a romantic vision only?
He was about to extinguish his reading light when
The commander hurled himself into the barracks, barreling out his words:
“Soldiers, we leave the base at 0:500; I want you to know
Iraq is going to be a better place because you men of honor
have chosen to serve your country.”

III. – Fall

He slumped in his wheelchair as he tried to focus on the autumn trees
outside his window at Building 18.
The leaves dropped one at a time before his uncomprehending eyes.
He placed his hand upon the left side of his skull,
and felt the softness underneath his bandages.
“Don’t worry, soldier,” the attendant seemed to be moving his lips,
“We are going to move you to a better place soon.”

IV. – Winter
The barren landscape of the day surprised even the most hearty
of the farmers at the graveside service that day.
The father sat with the folded American flag in his lap,
running his fingers gently over the stars.
No bird sang; no leaf fell.
The people flowed past them
one by one, all repeating the same words,
“He is in a better place.”