Jesus out of his tomb and wandering
among the rotting corpses in Ukraine,
dragging his bandages behind him.
A man carries his door,
the door of his house,
because when the war is over
he is going home
the night is the clear conscience of the beast
But comrades, if we kill him, someone will make
a martyr song and it will become the anthem sung
by thousands in the streets
a cozy little square
where local drunks would
congregate to damn
the vicissitudes
of their tipsy
fate
In this poignant, vital talk, Zarlasht Halaimzai articulates the lingering trauma of being expendable — and shares how belonging to a community can help bring back feelings of long-lost safety.
We need a progressive politics that shows solidarity with all victims of military violence — while resisting the militarism of our own government.
A Historical Feast of Death and Destruction from the Peloponnesian Wars to Late Tomorrow Night.
The vernal equinox came and went, like a cat creeping over the newly sprouted heads of anonymous weeds. You hardly knew, unless you were listening to NPR, that such an … Continue reading →
Poets write poetry to help them come to terms with the terror of their times. The process of writing those poems, and the process of reading them, both offer respite.
the groves and orchards
poisoned, fathers and brothers tortured,
hope abandoned with the other heavy furniture
it isn’t much of a road, the future
Neither professional linguists nor Ukrainians have any problem thinking of Ukrainian as a separate language – it’s probably about as different from Russian as Spanish is from Portuguese. Yet Russian nationalists long sought to classify it as a dialect of Russian.
I imagine her escaping Ukraine,
like a small bird
breaking formation over unfamiliar terrain
Given our world, we should all probably be in the streets now. I mean, here we are heading into Cold War II, while facing the possibility of World War III on a planet that, thanks to the way we live and produce energy, is heading for hell.