Poetic License: November 2002 Online Poetry Journal

A Time for Change
by Alin

Next to the Gods
by Pedro R. Briones

Untitled

Mom and the Mideast
by Sarah D

[Industry]
by Elsa Kim

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Mom and the Mideast
by Sarah D

Feb. 20th 2002
CNN reports of new tragedies every day
And as a young asian woman talks seriously of
sad events in the middle east,
my mom tells me with tears in her eyes that she walked--
crossed the border into Bethleham
after the war of 1967.
She always thought of Israel as the
center of civilization and now--
there are gunmen in the church of
nativity and suicide bombers in the
temples and Sharonšs tanks rumbling, groaning, rolling
over dead people in the streets--
She stayed with a kind arab family
who never knew she was a jew
and never asked
who offered her new shoes
because she couldnšt afford to replace her tattered tennies.
"Mom, what do you think happened to them?"
(anna doesnšt know when she asks the tough questions)
mom sighs a distant worried
sigh,
and begins picking at her thumb nail
she knows
and she knows the past. . . .
"oh. . . they were just so nice to me. . . . "
and that country is just tearing itself apart
I look out the window at the beautiful mountains and
calm white suburban houses
here in Utah everything is fine
and we joke about how peace should be brought about,
and which side should have to live on the moon
as sunlight streams
though the window of
gramahšs house
but itšs not that funny and Bush
wonšt even try
to help
as innocent people die every day for their one true
religion
so I wonder
(as I sit on a floral print couch on a perfect day in Utah):
a bloody war ravages the night in israel and the streets are stained red and the people scream for help but
there is none
Whose god is it that lets this happen?
so I turn my attention to the cool slick pages of my history book
and read how Roosevelt saved our country in
the American Pageant
and mom and dad discuss with frustration what a moron Bush is
and Gramah teaches anna to crochet
and I canšt sit here and read about how wonderful the US is for my homework so
I write this poem because a disturbed country tears itself apart
and we watch it through our televisions
and joke about what should be done
and again I gaze out the window at a perfect blue sky and feel
guilty because of how it makes me happy,
feeling free.

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