From The Fallen Rubble an Olive Branch Trembles
By Christopher J. Bradley
8/1/2002 6:34:24 AM
From the Fallen Rubble
An olive branch trembles
In the grasp
Of the tear streaked eagle.
After the moment of calamity
Remains the silent voice of the enfuried survivor
To croak and groan in one voice
“Our war has begun yet it is not the answer.”
Tanks Amphibious Transports and Aircraft
All Are Loaded and Barrelled
The Treads grinding on bare earth
With Wings cutting Blue Sky
And Battlements Adrift on Dark Sea.
Beneath the waves are the Tridents.
Locked in Def-Con Synchronization
Prepared to fly given the command
“May God Keep NATO in Line.”
And yet the spirit lives on
In the corridors of corporate offices
In the audiences of the blockbuster screens
In the baseball fields of the Niagara suburbs.
In the smile of a happy engaged waitress
In the shoe stores and the outlet malls
In the Big and Tall Men’s shops
On the well lit Boulevard at dusk.
In the Blues Bars and Subways of Manhattan
In the Science Museums where the children run free
In the galleries of Art and Nostalgia
Through the radio and television networks.
In the International Space Station’s Labs
On the global wilderness of the Internet
On the tips of the tongues of the new millennium academic
In the grade school teacher’s lesson plans.
In the endless vending of cigarettes and prescription pharmacology
On Every dime or Quarter put toward a soda pop.
With Every bag of Microwave popcorn
And at Every Chippewa Sausage Stand.
It could be said that some boxes had been better unopened
John Denver’s little ball called war might never have been bounced
But as with every harmonic frequency
Friction will reduce the rippling
As the oceans of tragedy subside
And the Kingfisher finally discovers
A perch on which his branch
May finally come to rest.