The Poetry of War […Syria]***, the use of chemical weapons Options

[saore]

The Poetry of War […Syria]


If I could catch up
with the rhythm of things
I'd stop talking

and sink into a deep
historical silence—
poetry of the dead.

Ghosts and gyres,
sages and tyrants,
expressions of longing

for a lost world.
The misplaced shoes
of a gassed girl.

Silence studies
the unregarded floor,
the effect of Sarin

on our lungs,
the involuntary
twitching of the legs.

Yet we must dig
deeper into earth
to find the epiphany

of these actions.
Perhaps the temple
was a defective construction.

Or “Nothing” is more
than an absence
whose advent is to be welcomed.

“Nothing,” a furiously
crossed-out “Something,”
Absence, whiteness, silence.

[Maureen]

Topical write about a terrible occurrence Sergio. You have handled it well IMO - hard hitting and a little clinical with the details but that's as it needs to be. The reader senses the anger and frustration in you words - The 'cover up' disgusts as does the sight of the victims because this should never happen in a civilized world. Should it?

A good write I feel on a difficult subject. Thank you for sharing it Sergio

Cheers

Maureen

[Eisa]

A thought provoking read, Sergio. You have tackled a very difficult subject, yet written it well. I have one small nit in St1.

If I could catch up
with the rhythm of things
I'd stop talking

I feel the word things is a bit abstract here, although I like the use of rhythm.

Snow

[saore]

Thank you Maureen. Snow you've given me something to think about. I'll see what I can do.

Sergio

[Psyche]

Sergio, I find it difficult to read your poem because of the horror these events have been producing in me daily.
Yet you've written a piece that's unbiased and digs powerfully into the nature of things in this world we live in.
Questioning. Observing. How can this be? Anger...

No nits. Just wish to know whether you're referring to the Temple of Jerusalem towards the end?

The finale is sad, heartrending. I take it to mean that all 'somethings' become 'nothings'. A void to be welcomed. No advent...

Deftly handled, Sergio. I admire your poem, even tho' I may not have grasped it perfectly.

Will return,
Sylvia

The Poetry of War […Syria]


If I could catch up
with the rhythm of things
I'd stop talking

and sink into a deep
historical silence—
poetry of the dead.

Ghosts and gyres,
sages and tyrants,
expressions of longing

for a lost world.
The misplaced shoes
of a gassed girl.

Silence studies
the unregarded floor,
the effect of Sarin

on our lungs,
the involuntary
twitching of the legs.

Yet we must dig
deeper into earth
to find the epiphany

of these actions.
Perhaps the temple
was a defective construction.

Or “Nothing” is more
than an absence
whose advent is to be welcomed.

“Nothing,” a furiously
crossed-out “Something,”
Absence, whiteness, silence.

[saore]

Thank you Sylvia. The last stanza is just a reference to death. The absence of the soul, the white burial shrouds, the silence of death.

Sergio