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           Later

There is a Ribbon segment,
exquisitely embroidered,
which says:
           I dream of giving birth
           to a child who will ask,
           Mother, what was war?

I have seen people stop
           to stare
           to ponder
           to stand in silence
as that length of Ribbon graced a column in a cathedral,
as that length of Ribbon graced a platform
in front of the Pentagon one day in August.

I thought later,
Dear God!
what would a mother say to that child's question?

What was war, Mother?
Because a long time ago she believed she could
answer:

War was when people fought each other.
What was 'fought'?
When they hurt one another.
Hurt?
Killed each other.
Killed each other?
Yes.
Was it mean, bad people who fought,
who hurt,
who killed?
No, mostly it was kind, young, healthy men
until......
Until what, Mother?
Until some people invented weapons.
Weapons?
Things to hurt, to kill each other;
until they learned how to kill everybody
all at once, except...
Except?
Except the ones that died later of the disease.
Oh. Everybody?
Yes.
The grandmas?
Yes.
The babies?
Yes.
The pussycats?
           Yes.
The horses?
Yes.
The flowers, too?
Yes.
And Daddies and brothers and sisters and cousins
and grandpas....
And turtles?
Yes.
I feel very sad.
So do I, but it was a long, long time ago.
I still feel sad.
So do I.
Sing me the lullaby.
I will sing the lullaby.
                     The Lullaby
           We are called, we are chosen to spread the
word;
           We are chosen, we are called to bring the Peace.

(to measures from J. S. Bach's
"Sheep May Safely Graze")

                               - Denver, 1985

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