We forgot the taste of brine, the tears: the sea
We forgot the hunger of the crested waves
their eyes with desert sand, and reaching hands.
We forgot the comfort of our property —
the land we have.
We forgot the barrel bombs and slaughter masks,
the burning cages and the drones,
the sound of bodies falling to the ground.
We forgot the question asked,
for fences and Pegida’s no.
We forgot the songs and poetry,
for yet another steak to fill the grill,
for gasoline in V6 four by fours,
for blessing smiles of one percent.
We forgot the maiming of the innocents
the Youtube flicks, the ISIS-dicks
We forgot the war until it came:
his sneakers soaked, and like he slept
his death will move the world.
Today Grace hosts poetics at dVerse by giving us the performance poetry by Loyce Gayo. I will not show you the image of Alan Kurdi. There is a war going on all throughout the Middle East, and Africa, and we are watching, forgetting. It seems like the image of a 3 year old on a beach of Turkey might move the world, very much like the image of Phan Thi Kim Phuc burning in Napalm changed the Vietnam war.
September 8, 2015