Author: Barry Spacks

  • A Song for Peace Day

    When I think of Sadako folding cranes
                    to heal her bomb-caused sickness,
    and her friends crane-forming in hopes for her health,
                    in a yearning for safety and peace,
    at once arises a wish     for joy for all children on this earth,
    for the goodness of life they deserve,   that murder-wars will cease

                    as we cry out with fervor    against the plagues of pain:
                                    Never again.

    Never again to waste young growth-time, squander play and pleasure; 
    O, defend the glory of children, their striving, their learning season;
    O, renew the pledge this Peace Day: end the lusts of greed and war,
    the slaughter of the innocents, insane beyond all reason.

                    And we cry out with fervor     against the plagues of pain:
                                    Never again.

                    Never again, in the name of all children;
                    Never again, in reverence of what young lives are for;
                    Never again: may the words come from the heart:
                    O, take up the work of peace, Peace-Warrior!

    No more bombing, no more burning, cranes of hope fly free;
    No more children slain in horror. Work and Love can make it be.

                    In the name of all the children:
                                    Never again.

                    In the name of all the children —
                    Work and Love can make it be.

  • Poem for Sadako

    This poem was read by Barry Spacks at the Foundation’s Sadako Peace Day commemoration on August 6, 2009

    The child Sadako, leukemia victim of Hiroshima, folded some 600 paper cranes in hope of health in the year before she died.

    Tell the story; the heart from horrors hardens like ice; pray that words may melt to tears the heart. Sadako’s friends completed the thousand cranes

    to bear away Sadako’s poisons. Imagine those stumbling, ardent fingers, fingers folding cranes of hope. Tell the story again and again.

    The children raised a monument to Sadako, bomb-sickened child of war. Her image there holds a golden crane in triumph over mindless death.

    We weep for Sadako, weep for her friends, until all blasted flesh is ours, for still comes news of rage and war, still comes hope in the folding of cranes.

    Tell the story, tell the story: salt tears, my friends, must make a start. Fold the cranes, the thousand cranes meaning Never again. Never again.

    Barry Spacks is First Poet Laureate of Santa Barbara.

  • Perfect Poems of Peace

    “The world is ruled by madmen.” – David Krieger

    When writers win prizes, something valuable beyond distinction flairs into being: Folks actually reach for their honored books and read them. One recent contest winner published by Santa Barbara’s Capra Press should interest anyone hoping for the survival of the human race. The poetry collection Today Is Not a Good Day for War gained David Krieger, president of the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation, the 2005 Peace Writing Award from the Omni Center for Peace, Justice, & Ecology. Recently, at the City University of New York’s Lifting the Shadow: Toward a Nuclear-Weapons-Free World disarmament conference, Krieger read from this latest volume and shared the stage with such noted poets as Yusef Komunyakaa, Marilyn Hacker, C.K. Williams, and Quincy Troupe.

    A remarkable achievement occurs when political protest poetry – poetry that deals with the raw events of contemporary history – also survives as art. Krieger’s satiric, passionate, and hopeful collection broods over the many disasters of violence we’ve experienced, from Hiroshima to Iraq. Often, poetry that speaks to immediate horrors and woes – certainly worthy subject matter – tips over into the sort of harangue and bare assertion best suited to an editorial page. It takes supreme ingenuity to bring such work alive to the heart and mind.

    “Patriotic words always mean that someone soon / will die,” one poem insists, and another mourns the 500th death of an American soldier in Iraq: “Let us lay the heavy bag at your feet / like a terrible wreath.” Krieger’s urgency to think peace constantly shifts tactics, from the evocation of a politician’s face – “a face with furtive eyes . . . that falls hard and fast / like the blade of a guillotine” – to the aftermath of 9/11 when “White flowers grow from bloodstained streets,” to God responding to the slow descent of the Hiroshima bomb “with tears that fell far slower / than the speed of bombs. / They still have not reached Earth.”

    Some of these pieces do fall away from poetic force into straight-out teaching and testimony, as in the longer, essayistic “On Becoming Human,” where undeniable ideas droop from being offered flat-out: “To be human is not always to succeed, but it is always to learn. / It is to move forward despite the obstacles.” But what’s remarkable about Krieger’s book is how seldom it falls out of freshness while attacking stupid pain and bloodshed from ever new angles. The pieces to whom the book is dedicated – the Hibakusha, those survivors of the Japanese nuclear devastations – are particularly moving:

    For every hibakusha many must obey.

    For every hibakusha many must be silent.

    The volume also ranges out to related topics, from giving advice to graduating seniors and celebrating the poet Robert Bly “who gave us the gift of freshness,” to expressing a longing for a simpler time when men “could read the stars” and “knew how to greet bears.” A shatteringly stark alphabetical listing of 52 “Unhealed Wounds of Humanity” – “Kent State, Kosovo, Kuwait, / Manhattan, Midway, My Lai” – shares these pages with a memorial to Martin Luther King, Jr., a visionary visit of Einstein to the poet’s garden, and “Fifty-One Reasons for Hope,” a listing that includes “Pablo Neruda,” “Teachers,” “The Ascendancy of Women,” and “Our Capacity to Love.”

    From WWII to Abu Ghraib, here we have a voice that will not let us forget or turn away. What Terry Tempest Williams wrote of an earlier volume of poems edited by Krieger, The Poetry of Peace, holds equally well for this collection: “May we read each of these poems as a prayer.”

    Originally published by the Santa Barbara Independent.