The Poet Speaks

Homage to Abdul Wahab Al-Bayati I heard from a friend Americans paint words on their bombs. They write, BAGHDAD, GO TO HELL or TO IRAQ WITH LOVE or VICTORY AND GLORY And I wonder, how many words does it take to kill? How many to kill an old man hobbling down a dusty street? or three children playing in a mud puddle? or two lovers caught in a trembling embrace? How many words are needed to destroy a mosque? How many words are needed to destroy our prayer? How many words are needed to destroy our faith in God? And I wonder, how many words does it take to stop the bombs? How many to reach a determined man leaning over papers in his oval office? or three patriots cheering and flag waving? or two pilots climbing into their F-16s? How many words are needed to touch their hearts? How many words are needed to change their hearts? How many words are needed to erase the words of war? Can I still be a poet in this time of war? Perhaps I am just the hobbling man or the fleeing child or the trembling lover. Perhaps my words have burned to smoke and ashes, words of peace scorched in the fires of the words of hate.