Excerpt from Book: Poem to Think About Libya and All Wars

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An arm, a leg, an eye, a tongue,
These are the prizes the soldiers have won.

But mom that’s not all
They’ve got Saul,

An arm, a leg, an eye, a tongue,
That’s all that’s left of Saul
That’s all.

He’s dead mom
He’s dead.

“Thank the good Lord,”
My mother said.
“For if he were alive
In the hands of the soldiers
He’d ask the good Lord why.
Why did God give him life
To be treated like a spider
Whose fallen prey

To children’s games
They rip off its legs
And watch him squirm
And laugh,
And laugh,
And these are the games
That children play.”

An arm, a leg, an eye, a tongue,
These are the prizes the soldiers have won.
They show their trophies proudly,
Sure signs of their victory.

An arm, a leg, an eye, a tongue,

The trophies
They won
Were part of my son.

I have chosen to post this poem because of what the United States has chosen to do in Libya.  We are now killing innocent people in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, Pakistan and now Libya.  Everyone in the United States understands that collateral damage is a normal part of war.  But the mothers in those countries seem to have a problem understanding that their children are first and foremost collateral damage, why don’t they understand?

Please contact your senator (Phone numbers at http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm) and tell them to end all of the “conflicts” (wars).

Please contact your congress (Phone numbers at http://www.senate.gov/general/contact_information/senators_cfm.cfm) and tell them to defund all of the “conflicts” (wars).

About Amy Marschak

I have been writing since I was little and found myself bored but yet still trapped in a classroom. So instead of staring out the windows at school, I would write poetry in the margins of all of my school notes. And in this way I could pass the time without having to listen to the teacher when they were being boring or depressing. A few of these poems are in my first book “Poetry for All Those Breathing” which is now in its Seventh Printing. Poetry has always been a way for me to be heard by my family. If I would simply state how I felt, I would frequently be ignored but if I wrote it as a poem, what I had to say would be listened to. Sometimes my parents would even cry when they heard my poetry.