Fortnightly Poem 9.A (Featured)

Even though I felt the need to feature a Siegfried Sasson poem last time, when I read this poem of Rose’s (from her book Even in the Dark) I thought is was much more pertinent, and of course it demonstrates that not all women want their sons to be soldiers…Rose Lucas is a brilliant poet and will be featuring at our little Christmas hills poetry reading on Thursday the 26th!

Qana Rose Lucas

Lebanon August 2000

In the television footage,

in the hushed calm of our evening home

we see a

rescue worker

(who brings no rescue)

carry you

so tenderly—

your tiny frame,

bare chest.

elastic waisted pants with

dulled embroidery on the cuffs:

and though, being human,

when cameras are gone,

when his task is done,

he must soon

howl

for grief and piercing

rage—

yet now, he

cradles you

small

across the empty spaces of his arms,

his hand beneath your head

where dark curls

and velvet skin are caked

still

in bitter dust of

house and bomb and shattered life

the choking crust of that

screeching and

unbearable night.

Child—

there is no territory,

can be no place or promise

that is more precious than you are:

a mother—

not yours—

pounds her palm against

her head, and keens,

and keens,

and will not stop.