war, battle, skirmish: This is why we fight.

Listen, that I was never one to understand it
is part of the reason I never supported
waved, cheered, yellow-ribboned
the boys back home. There was too much
desperation, too much last option taken without
other options considered. But look: show me
a world without ghettos, show me
women lined up for their first vote, show me
something better after and I can understand then that
this is why we fight.

I am easily distracted by terms and thus my hate
for words like survivor and victim. Meanwhile,
nothing smells right in this room,
old copper onion stale sweet rot
everyone's lost something and everyone wants more,
one more moment of joy; she passes
the photo of a newborn baby and everyone touches
and weeps and orders another round of chemo
and I understand it goes beyond the self and that
this is why we fight.

It is more than I can summarize in ten lines because
it starts with the idea of stories, but yours
never goes beyond you, never counts the idea
of more than one narrative, never considers
who suffers, who could be saved,
who should be saved for, except if "who" is you.
It is more than missed birthdays that send me
reeling in tears from the room.
I can't explain, though I do understand that
this is why we fight.

Comments

[Aaron]

I'd like to order two rounds of chemo. Hell, a round for the house.

[Corbin]

is this the fruit of your reflections in California on why we tell stories? thanks for a great poem! 2nd stanza is where it really takes off. chemo: how we fight. the more I think about it the better it fits.

[www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=540838002]

The structure of this is really good. Took me a bit to get into the flow, but then it drags the reader along. Once your in, your in.

[tuckova]

RYAN DAVIS! How the heck are you?!