Sunday, October 10, 2004
The Nuisance
(If you like any of this, the graphic, the poem, feel free to pass them on. I am outraged and hurt badly.)
''We have to get back to the place we were, where terrorists are not the focus of our lives, but they're a nuisance,'' Kerry said. ''As a former law-enforcement person, I know we're never going to end prostitution. We're never going to end illegal gambling. But we're going to reduce it, organized crime, to a level where it isn't on the rise. It isn't threatening people's lives every day, and fundamentally, it's something that you continue to fight, but it's not threatening the fabric of your life.''
In the overwhelming numbness you felt
looking for the father
who, unknown to you
had turned into dust,
fragments
and precious memories,
little did you know
you became a nuisance,
a statistic,
a faceless person
to a man who claims the right to lead you.
In the fear and agony you felt,
looking for the baby you would never hold again,
ripped from your life, but not your heart
that Oklahoma morning,
As you stood there, clutching his teddy to your chest,
who would have guessed
your loss would be just a nuisance,
like a woman looking for customers
in the shadows of the evening
to the man who claims the right to lead you.
Pain
loss,
suffering
unsearched for,
unasked for,
a nuisance,
not the reality of life-wrenching tragedy
to make someone else's point,
this
is like being ripped open again
in the name of votes.
Susan E. Stone, 2oo4
''We have to get back to the place we were, where terrorists are not the focus of our lives, but they're a nuisance,'' Kerry said. ''As a former law-enforcement person, I know we're never going to end prostitution. We're never going to end illegal gambling. But we're going to reduce it, organized crime, to a level where it isn't on the rise. It isn't threatening people's lives every day, and fundamentally, it's something that you continue to fight, but it's not threatening the fabric of your life.''
In the overwhelming numbness you felt
looking for the father
who, unknown to you
had turned into dust,
fragments
and precious memories,
little did you know
you became a nuisance,
a statistic,
a faceless person
to a man who claims the right to lead you.
In the fear and agony you felt,
looking for the baby you would never hold again,
ripped from your life, but not your heart
that Oklahoma morning,
As you stood there, clutching his teddy to your chest,
who would have guessed
your loss would be just a nuisance,
like a woman looking for customers
in the shadows of the evening
to the man who claims the right to lead you.
Pain
loss,
suffering
unsearched for,
unasked for,
a nuisance,
not the reality of life-wrenching tragedy
to make someone else's point,
this
is like being ripped open again
in the name of votes.
Susan E. Stone, 2oo4
# posted by Knitting a Conundrum @ 3:18 PM 
