another revolution
around the sun
a moment of pause
to take account
a fresh beginning
to make our world right
another chance to be
a good citizen of Earth
new hope that love
may conquer fear
Traducción de Rubén D. Arvizu
otra revolución
alrededor del sol
un momento de pausa
para considerar
un comienzo fresco
para hacer bien al mundo
otra oportunidad de ser
un buen ciudadano de la Tierra
nueva esperanza de que el amor
pueda conquistar al temor.
I didn’t think that I would cry, or even That I could, but the words of mothers,
Fathers, friends and lovers penetrated deep.
Each name on that polished black granite Wall Is still connected to our lives.
The saddest messages of all were those From the children that the dead men
Never knew.
I sat there thinking about those who lied To send these young men off to face their deaths.
I thought about the politicians who are doing It again, as though they’d learned nothing,
Less than nothing, from the Wall.
Different places, Vietnam and now Iraq, But the outcomes are the same.
Some died in jungles, some in arid deserts, Some from roadside bombs.
In the end, what’s left are memories and names, And some slim hope we shall not fail
Our children yet again.
“My son died for nothing….” — Cindy Sheehan
One brave mother, whose son died in war, had a burning question for the President.
“What,” she asked, “was the noble cause my son died for?”
While the mother waited for an answer, the President took naps.
While she wilted in the harsh Texas sun, the President sped by in his caravan.
While she felt the aching pain of her son’s death, the President went biking with Lance Armstrong.
While the President enjoyed yet another war-time vacation, more mothers’ sons died in war.
And more mothers began to ask, “What is the noble cause our children are dying for?”
The President, who saves his charm for those in power, could only say, “I’ve got a life to live….”
And so he does, while more sons and daughters are sacrificed to the god of war,
and their grieving mothers await an answer.
“Poetry is an act of peace.” — Pablo Neruda
I want to write a poem that feeds the hungry, a poem that makes the world healthy, one that ends torture and replaces greed with compassion.
I want to write a poem that awakens people to the horror of war, a poem that ends our addiction to violence, one that reveals the obscenity of sending young men and women to war.
I want to write a poem that defeats nationalism and militarism and every other “ism,” a poem that celebrates human dignity and the beauty and abundance of the earth.
I want to write a poem that brings down leaders before they commit genocide and other intolerable crimes, a poem that ends impunity.
I want to write a poem that celebrates the miracle of life, one that makes young people aware of their own beauty and fills them with courage to fight for justice.
I am searching for the words, the grammar, the language, the rhythms to write such a poem.
Such words are still forming like cooling lava, and the rules of grammar are as uncertain as mist. But the language, the language must be of the heart’s pulse. And the rhythms must be those of the wind and tides.
A poem of such magic cannot be found in books or on ancient scrolls. Such a poem cannot be written in stone, or ink or even blood. It can only be lived.
The fifteen hundredth American soldier has died In an ancient land.
I don’t know his name, nor can I imagine his face, Surprised or perhaps contorted, as he fell like an anchor Through the sea. . Like all of us, he had dreams.
One is seized by the penetrating beauty of flowers, By their arrangement in a crystal vase, and cannot help Sinking to the sad earth, sobbing and bleeding.
When the flowers, too, have faded and fallen, The empty container will remain solid and solitary, Still reflecting light, but lifeless and achingly alone.
We will conspire to keep this blue dot floating and alive,
To keep the soldiers from gunning down the children,
To make the water clean and clear and plentiful,
To put food on everybody’s table and hope in their hearts.
We will conspire to find new ways to say
People matter. This conspiracy will be bold.
Everyone in this conspiracy will dance
At wholly inappropriate times and places.
They will burst out singing non-patriotic songs.
Anyone can join this conspiracy, anyone.
It will be a conspiracy of, by and for the people
And the not-so-secret password will be Peace.
* David Krieger is President of the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation(www.wagingpeace.org). He is the editor of Hope in a Dark Time (Capra Press, 2003).
Each rising of the sun begins a day of awe, destined
To bring shock to those who can be shocked.
This day began in sunlit beauty and, like other days,
Soon fell beneath death’s demon shadow.
The darkness crossed Manhattan and the globe,
The crashing planes, tall towers bursting into flame.
The hurtling steel into solid steel endlessly played
On the nightly news until imprinted on our brains
People lurching from the burning towers, plunging Like shot geese to the startled earth beneath.
The shock was painted on faces on the news,
That such sudden death could be visited on us.
But such death is not extraordinary in our world of grief,
Born anew each brief and scarlet sunlit day.
White flowers grow from blood stained streets
And rain falls gently, gently in defiance, not defeat.
*David Krieger is the president of the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation (www.wagingpeace.org). He is the editor of Hope in a Dark Time (Capra Press, 2003).
Welcome to our 9th annual Sadako Peace Day on the occasion of the 58th anniversary of the bombing of Hiroshima.
In this beautiful garden, named for a young girl, Sadako Sasaki, who died as a result of the bombing of Hiroshima, we remember Sadako and all innocent victims of war. These children all have names. Their lives, as all lives, were precious. They were not meant to be collateral damage or statistics of war. All war kills, and no war spares the innocent, nuclear war least of all.
It matters that we remember these victims and these historical events. It also matters how we remember. We live in a culture where victory is celebrated, but victory by means of nuclear devastation is no cause for celebration. It is cause for sober reflection on our past so that we may not intentionally or inadvertently destroy our future, nor the future of our children and of those yet unborn.
Nuclear weapons have given us new responsibilities. The Nuclear Age, now 58 years old, requires us to accept personal responsibility for preserving our species and all life from the utter devastation that we know from Hiroshima and Nagasaki is the result of using nuclear weapons.
Today we remember the hibakusha, the survivors of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, whose prayer is fervent: “Never Again! We must not repeat the evil.”
We remember also that hibakusha do not just happen.
It is our job to break the silence, to speak up for the sanity of eliminating nuclear weapons, to urge our country to be a leader in this effort, rather than an obstacle. It is significant challenge, one that each of us is called upon to accept for the good of all and for all that is good.
Hibakusha
Do Not Just Happen
by David Krieger
For every hibakusha
there is a pilot
for every hibakusha
there is a planner
for every hibakusha
there is a bombardier
for every hibakusha
there is a bomb designer
for every hibakusha
there is a missile maker
for every hibakusha
there is a missileer
for every hibakusha
there is a targeter
for every hibakusha
there is a commander
for every hibakusha
there is a button pusher
for every hibakusha
many must contribute
for every hibakusha
many must obey
for every hibakusha
many must be silent
*David Krieger is president of the Nuclear Age Peace Foundation (www.wagingpeace.org). This is an edited version of his welcoming remarks at the 9th annual Sadako Peace Day, held in Santa Barbara on August 6, 2003.
In a world gone mad it’s hard to think right
So much violence hate and spite
Murder going on all day and night
Due time we fight the non-violent fight
Mirrors, smokescreens and lies
It’s not the politicians but their actions I despise
You and Saddam should kick it like back in the day
With the cocaine and Courvoisier
But you build more bombs as you get more bold
As your mid-life crisis war unfolds
All you want to do is take control
Now put that axis of evil bullshit on hold
Citizen rule number 2080
Politicians are shady
So people watch your back ’cause I think they smoke crack
I don’t doubt it look at how they act
In a world gone mad it’s hard to think right
So much violence hate and spite
Murder going on all day and night
Due time we fight the non-violent fight
First the ‘War On Terror’ now war on Iraq
We’re reaching a point where we can’t turn back
Let’s lose the guns and let’s lose the bombs
And stop the corporate contributions that they’re built upon
Well I’ll be sleeping on your speeches ‘til I start to snore
‘Cause I won’t carry guns for an oil war
As-Salamu alaikum, wa alaikum assalam
Peace to the Middle East peace to Islam
Now don’t get us wrong ‘cause we love America
But that’s no reason to get hysterica
They’re layin’ on the syrup thick
We ain’t waffles we ain’t havin’ it
In a world gone mad it’s hard to think right
So much violence hate and spite
Murder going on all day and night
Due time we fight the non-violent fight
Now how many people must get killed?
For oil families pockets to get filled?
How many oil families get killed?
Not a damn one so what’s the deal?
It’s time to lead the way and de-escalate
Lose the weapons of mass destruction and the hate
Say ooh ah what’s the White House doin’?
Oh no! Say, what in tarnation have they got brewing??!!!!???!!
Well I’m not pro Bush and I’m not pro Saddam
We need these fools to remain calm
George Bush you’re looking like Zoolander
Trying to play tough for the camera
What am I on crazy pills? We’ve got to stop it
Get your hand out my grandma’s pocket
We need health care more than going to war
You think it’s democracy they’re fighting for?
In a world gone mad it’s hard to think right
So much violence hate and spite
Murder going on all day and night
Due time we fight the non-violent fight
If politicians had to fight the wars
they would find another way.
Peace is not easy, they say.
But it is war that is too easy –
too easy to turn a profit, too easy
to believe there is no choice,
too easy to sacrifice
someone else’s children.
Someday it will not be this way.
someday we will teach our children
that they must not kill,
that they must have the courage
to live peace, to stand firmly
for justice, to say no to war.
Until we teach our children peace,
each generation will have its wars,
Will find its own ways
to believe in them.