still marching...

today, the san francisco skyline cloaked itself in fog, like it was trying to hide behind its thickness from the bleakness of today's reality:
the fifth "anniversary" of the u.s. invasion of iraq.

this morning, i wrote of the fog,
"rain that never quite falls
like the tears we don't quite cry anymore
they didn't help last year anyway,
we just hold them like a cloud in our memory

when will the rain fall
hard enough to stop bullets and bombs?"

i wasn't trying to write a poem…just get a hold on my emotions…
all day, i was cynical, questioning whether or not i even wanted to go to the antiwar march – and rightly so, i think, because each year it feels more like an annual political get-together, and less like the passionate expression of outrage i remember from the past.

i also wrote:

"i still remember the first year,
we thought if we brought enough breathing bodies into the streets with signs that asked for peace we could stop this war,
i remember the first tears
as the war was announced, standing outside the white house, "chant loud enough to make them hear us!" we yelled into the ten dollar megaphone,
people stopped us on the street and thanked us, as though they too thought a ten dollar megaphone could amplify our voices loud enough to make anyone listen."

…and it's true, I really do remember. those days we thought we could stop the war from happening at all. the outrage when bush got on tv for the first time, announced "shock and awe," and cautioned everyone in iraq "whatever you do, don't attack the oil wells." (don't quote me on that, it's not a direct quote, but it's close)

Then, in an attempt to invoke that hope I used to hold onto, I searched for my older poems, the ones I wrote in 03 and 04 and even 05, the ones before this cynicism - -


2003
"the unified song of an impassioned people ignites the air
and calls upon the swiftly setting sun to climb again over pink mountains and lyrical
oceans, serenading us with her emphatic presence."

2003
"She sat Rhapsodizing a new world while the sun set,
sun set,
receding to a new home beneath the horizon of dignity
Sun set,
because its light was swallowed by the brighter light of bursting bombs
Bombs that burst in the air and gave proof through the night that the war was still there"
[addendum 2008:
and the war was still there.]

and back to 2008
To anyone I saw today, I apologize for my intense cynicism. I think all day I was waiting for that one idealistic person, just one, to respond to my cynicism with something hopeful. And all day, it didn't happen. I've seen articles and heard news anchors say that people in the US are losing interest in the war, becoming more apathetic. I don't think that's what it is. I'm no expert – but I think it's more a loss of hope than a loss of interest. We need to inspire ourselves and each other…maybe a piece of that is not waiting till March 19th each year to get out there and do something about this war that, surprise surprise, doesn't actually just affect Iraqis (or the economy for that matter) on the anniversary of the day it started, but every day since it started.
But i'm not trying to strategize…just process. and mourn. you know, maybe that's where this cynicism is coming from…i'm tired of playful protests, creative direct actions, "die-ins," where we outline bodies in colorful chalk and walk away. i don't feel playful, or creative (not in that way), or colorful. after five years, these symbolic protests feel like a time for mourning, not dancing and partying in the streets. those tactics were for the times we thought our voices might actually make a difference.

i seem unable to find my usual hopeful ending right now, so i just keep writing and writing…
i think we'll just have to hope for a more hopeful ending the next time i blog…
and hope that next year, we won't be marching in mourning again. hope that next year we'll have a real reason to dance and party in the streets.