It has to be one of human nature’s greater ironies that it invariably deflects the greater blame for its worst tragedies away from itself.
It is called politics.
It is probably fair to say, though, that most if not all of us are no less guilty sometimes than those who tread the Corridors of Power.
PLAYING DIRTY, THE POLITICS OF WAR (AND PEACE)
Last seen standing on the edge of war,
strutting bravery, dreaming of glory,
no conception of carnage gone before,
rewriting, in blood, a nation’s story
Heads high, eager to answer duty’s call,
faith let fly in the wind, flags unfurled,
no one suspecting how many might fall,
prayers unanswered around the world
Victory (as ever) fell on time’s sword,
eleventh hour, day, month, 1918;
no action-replay, we gave them our word,
only to break it again and again…
Heroes, on Time's sword called upon to fall
for the sake of Peace and Goodwill (to all?)
Copyright R. N. Taber 2007; 2018
[Note: Revised (2016) version of a poem that appears under the title 'The Rhetoric of Blame' in Accomplices to Illusion, by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2007; revised ed. in e-format in preparation.]
Labels: blame, courage, death, dogma, duty, global consciousness, history, human nature, irony, life, mind-body-spirit, past-present-future, peace, poetry, politics, power, religion, survival, war
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