Second installment but this time the pictures are by Rebekah and Deborah from the catacombs in Paris. Poetry by Benjamin.
Endless
Where has all the power gone for good
When nations struggle endlessly toward inaction
Blame for problems squarely laid upon
Those backs already bent by deprivation
Too easy it remains to be at peace
When battles fought are not in your backyard
Ever more sleazy talking heads announce
The death tolls in a decrescending drawl
That fails entirely to help resolve
The tribulations which continue to evolve
From colonies we’ve lost but somehow never held
To terrorists we’ve sought and never found
An endless game of ring around the rose
Whose thorns do cause much pain to those that know
That we are all to blame for this charade
And dancing corpses could not make believe
With gravitas equivalent to the many souls
Whose bloodied spirits we have helped enroll
In such cruel parodies of theater shows
As are depicted in the end by rows on rows
Of crosses, headstones, and where we give aid
In burials en grosse we call mass graves
The pits were dug by native hands, it’s true
But each of us helped fill them, me and you.
Margie~
Your son is wise beyond his years.
He knows the things that only
the old seam to know. I am moved
greatly, if only those that need
to hear this could hear it and
open their ears and minds.
Your son is great peace writer!
Tell him that his poem made my
husband cry, I have only seen him
do this 3 times before.
(Japanese don't show this feeling)
But he said maybe he is a
Reincarnation of Mahatma Gandhi,
amazing understanding for a young man.
Thank you.
Rane
Posted by: Rane | February 27, 2009 at 12:48 AM
i've not seen the catacombs in paris, but i saw a similar ossuary at meteora in greece. powerful pictures for a powerful poem.
Posted by: julochka | February 27, 2009 at 05:04 AM
The restrained fury in this poem is really evocative and intense. It reminds me of the first part of Yeats' "Second Coming":
Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
The part about nations struggling "endlessly toward inaction" pretty well captures our world in crisis.
The photos are superb!!
Posted by: Patricia | February 27, 2009 at 10:21 AM
Eerily beautiful. Haunting images and words - especially love the last stanza of Benjamin's poem.
Posted by: Laura G. | February 27, 2009 at 11:39 PM
haunting..lovely..
Posted by: .amanda. | February 28, 2009 at 04:51 PM
When I sit alone and write
I sometimes look out on the night
It isn’t often that I write
By day, I just can’t stand the light
I write at night and watch the moon
I wonder if I’ll see it soon.
Posted by: Ben J. O. | March 01, 2009 at 12:05 AM
Scary looking....lots of skulls
Posted by: Vegetarian Man | September 17, 2009 at 06:01 PM