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Frontiers: A Journal of Women Studies 23.2 (2002) 1-2



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In Hope of Peace, September11-October11, 2001

Gail Tremblay


Death flies in on silver wings,
flies in through walls and windows *
flies in and in, explodes in flames,
taking its messengers with it *
snatching them amid dark prayers *
snatching thousands in mid-sentence,
amid their work, things scattering,
going up in smoke, falling, falling *
rubble falling away from skeletons
of molten steel, burying ash, teeth,
fractured bits of flesh and bone, burying
so much hope and human wish
between sunrise and mid-day.
And then the aftermath begins *
not that anything surprises me
in this world where sorrow wears
at millions, and daily, children die
for want of food and clear, clean water.
For years, I have had to negotiate
with grief because borders never make
me blind to the pain of others sharing
space on this small, suffering planet
rushing in a spiral after the sun
in search of light * too little light.
Speeches and votes condoning war
make me wild with worry; why
are there never enough blessings
to create a world without terror. Shame
wells in me, pools near my heart; [End Page 1]
my taxes pay for so much cruelty *
too little love * too little generosity.
Since Sunday, October7th, the sound
of bombs have haunted my dreams *
doubled my grief * I long for compassionate
courts, trials, evidence * for infinite justice
instead of more dark death * for life
sentences to do good works until God
forgives all the terrorists who forget to love
the creatures on this sweet, revolving earth.


 

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