War Dogs

 

Rescuers work to free victims from the rubble. (Wojciech Grzedzinski for The Washington Post)

“As the city neared its midnight curfew Saturday, dogs wearing specialized shoes to protect them from injuries were scaling the mound of debris, sniffing for survivors.” (“When Russia bombs a building full of people, this is the aftermath,” by Siobhán O'Grady and Anastacia Galouchka, The Washington Post, January14, 2023)

 

War Dogs

“Man’s best friend” can be trained

to hunt, to guide, to guard,

to keep watch in the night.

There are service dogs and therapy dogs –

all taking their place to enhance the world

where humanity’s footsteps fall.

 

War dogs are trained as scouts,

sentries and messengers.

Some are mercy dogs

who find the survivors.

 

With painful foresight

in times of peace and prosperity,

mercy dogs are prepared for

human devastation.

They are fitted with shoes

to protect them in their search

as they traverse the smoking rubble

and shards

of respectable neighborhoods

devastated by war.

 

In another time,

they would have sniffed out

wounded soldiers.

Today they search

for grandmothers and children.

They seek surviving citizens

who wanted nothing more

than to arise another day

to work an ordinary job,

to hold their children in the evening,

to kiss their loved ones

and joke with their friends.

 

A traumatic day in Ukraine;

war dogs make their way.

They recognize, like Hindu saints,

the sacred light of every person,

looking for those who may have a chance,

finding people who still have breath,

helping humanity piece together what remains.

 

 

                                                  ~ Charles Kinnaird

 

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"The Shooter" A Poem for Another Day of Mourning

Mourners hold candles during a vigil at a makeshift memorial to mark

the weekend mass shooting at a gay bar, late Monday, Nov. 21, 2022,

in Colorado Springs, Colo. (AP Photo/David Zalubowski)

The litany of shootings continues. We've had school shootings like the one in Uvalde, Texas, a church shooting in Vestavia Hills, Alabama, and yesterday, another club shooting. I woke up way too early this morning and wrote another poem.

The Shooter

 

There is a shooter among us.

He steps in unexpectedly

to disrupt our equilibrium.

We create safe places

for ourselves –

        schools

        churches

        community bars.

We make a circle of belonging

where we can find the security

to be ourselves.

 

Then comes the shooter.

What discord does he bring?

(It's always a "he" isn't it?)

Why is he so off-kilter

that he cannot tolerate

someone else's circle of belonging?

Can he not recognize the sacredness

of a safe place

        to learn

        to pray

        to play

        to celebrate ourselves?

 

For the sake of the fallen,

For the sake of humanity,

For the sake of our longing for safe places,

We will never stop offering

our circles of belonging,

even if that circle (for now)

is the best place to weep.

                           

                            ~ Charles Kinnaird

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When Leaders Choose Bombs

“An empire with excess guns and bombs

has one solution for every problem.”

Our leaders in the U.S. are continually drawn into military options. There are many interpretations as to why our president recently chose to take out an Iranian general Qassem Suleimani in a military drone strike. Whatever the reasoning, innocent civilians suffered in the aftermath when Iran's military response mistakenly brought down a commercial airliner resulting in the deaths of all passengers on board. In addition, the chances of wartime escalations were increased.

When our leaders choose bombs over diplomacy, many innocent people suffer in the aftermath.

Here is a re-post from April 11, 2017:

Photo from Mass Communication SPC. Ford Williams/U.S. Navy via AFP/GETTY IMAGES

Tomahawk missiles streak through the air as Navy guided-missile destroyer USS Porter conducts strike operations against Syria while in the Mediterranean Sea on April 7, 2017 (New York Daily News)

"World leaders praise US attack on Syria, while Assad allies fume"

(Headline from The Hill)

A Unity of Bombs

How quickly sentiments can change

With a bomb –

Like a collective sigh of relief.

A shower of missiles launched

Toward a Syrian airbase

Suddenly changed the public narrative.

Opponents applaud a decisive act.

Critics allow

That something had to be done.

It’s like those Hollywood westerns

When the sheriff fires a gun into the air

And the crowd settles down.

When peace and diplomacy

Become tiresome,

A good bomb can break the tension –

Reset the clock.

An empire

With excess guns and bombs

Has one solution for every problem.

While heads of state

Gloat

Posture

Challenge

Or congratulate,

The people remain crushed

Under the heel

Of political power.

A bomb makes a leader

Look decisive,

But the dust always settles

On the people now seen as collateral damage –

Disregarded and marginalized –

The dust settles,

Streamed by humanity’s tears.

                                                            ~ CK

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A Time of Burning

"Mourning a disappearing world as Australia burns"

(Headline from The Globe and Mail)

A Time of Burning

“Some say the world will end in fire,” the poet, Frost has said.

Though he also offered the possibility of ice,

World’s end was nevertheless the given.

Talking about final days has often been a pastime

for those with time on their hands.

They could speak of it and move on in comfort

just as one may exit the theater for ice cream

after a harrowing horror show on the big screen.

“No Exit” was seen by Sartre

and then seen by many on stage.

Even when the prophets speak

we have always managed to find

at least a restroom

and assurance that the world outside still waits.

There comes a time of burning

when the old ways pass.

Instead of quietly fading

like an old cover from

The Saturday Evening Post,

The known world is consumed by fire.

Angry fire,

Cleansing fire,

Raging fire…

It all depends on perspective.

There was a time

when men at war

under enemy fire

Sang longingly

to keep the home fires burning.

Today 

our greatest hope is in catastrophe.

We could not hear the warnings

while living in ease.

World’s end seemed a fantasy,

or a fearful cry of

Fringe environmental zealots.

If we can survive catastrophe,

perhaps a new day will dawn.

If not,

perhaps creation can rest

from her struggles.

~ Charles Kinnaird

________________________

Photo credit: Adam Stevenson / Reuters - A kookaburra perches on a burnt tree in the aftermath of a bushfire in Wallabi Point, Australia, on Nov. 12, 2019.
From The Globe and Mail, "Mourning a disappearing world as Australia burns"



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The March of the Oligarchs

"A hopeful billboard in Montenegro" in 2016 (STEVO VASILJEVIC / REUTERS)

“America’s real divide isn’t left vs. right. It’s democracy vs. oligarchy.”

(title of essay by Robert Reich in Salon)

It was about twenty-five years ago that I began to notice that global corporations were exerting more influence in both foreign and domestic affairs. I had grown up seeing how demonstrations in the streets by the people had led to more humane legislation, as in the Civil Rights and Voting Rights Acts (and before that, the passing of child labor laws and workplace safety legislation). I asked myself then, how much longer that legislative model could endure as a safeguard for the people as global corporations assert more power and influence.

The following poem was one of my journalistic poems first posted March26, 2017, during the first 100 days of the current White House administration.  – CK

The March of the Oligarchs

By Charles Kinnaird

When I was a child

I was momentarily confused

The first time my older brother

Brought out his chess set.

The game board

Was exactly like the one we used for checkers,

But the rules were entirely different.

                         -  -  -

Growing up during the Cold War,

We thought the threat

Was coming to an end

When the Berlin Wall fell

And the Soviet Bloc collapsed.

We were giddy

With thoughts of freedom –

Oppression had been lifted;

The “Communist Threat” was fading.

That giddy moment of freedom

Was soon seized by corporations.

They flew under the banner

Of free enterprise,

Thereby flying under the radar

That scans for

Enemies of the state.

Global corporations

Have become the prime movers,

Making governments inconsequential.

Seen as good for the country,

Essential for the economy,

Creator of jobs,

Granter of benefits,

And source of political spending,

Big companies hold Congress hostage.

Legislation may soon bear no more weight

Than nice ideas

Voiced by well-meaning folks

In a Sunday School class.

In today's political arena

The playing field is familiar.

The game board looks the same.

But the rules have changed.

                                              

*   *   *

From the introductory post to my journalistic poetry series "Bearing Witness to the Times"

The best thing that poets can do is to bear witness to the times – articulate what is happening in the moment; speak to the real-life experiences of your people.  I am setting myself a goal to write a poem each week that reflects what I see and experience in the life of our nation... if I can write one poem a week there will be some chronicle of our sacred/tested/doubtful union.

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Broken Glass, Shattered Dreams

[Author's Note: The following poem was written yesterday morning in response to the news of the proposed ICE raids to take place today. The President subsequently announced a two-week delay in those raids. Thankfully, there are groups protesting (see below) yet our country remains on a course that can only be described as evil and inhumane in its treatment of immigrants and asylum seekers along our southern border.] #WeHaveRights

“ICE set to begin immigration raids in 10 cities on Sunday”

(CNN News Headline)

Broken Glass, Shattered Dreams

Kristallnacht, “the night of broken glass,”

When paramilitary forces  enforced a pogrom against the Jews

Confirming the moral blight upon the regime

Of a civilized nation.

No one spoke out.

The white Christian majority

Dared not question the authorities.

Whether in fear

Or in tacit approval,

Unspeakable atrocities

Were unleashed.

Today

In the land of the free

Paramilitary forces are set in place

To enforce a pogrom against immigrants of color.

We wanted those Hispanic immigrants to tend out yards,

Clean out hotels,

Pick our crops,

And to do those jobs that are beneath our lot.

Yet how many will speak out?

Who will affirm “freedom and justice for all?”

Keeping silent is easier –

Less trouble on the part of the comfortable majority.

We already tipped our hand

By allowing concentration camps

Where children are taken from their parents

To face fear

Abuse,

And death.

But we tipped our hand before

With the Indian Removal Act

And the Dred Scott Decision.

We speak noble words

While plotting evil deeds.

Whether in fear

Or in tacit approval,

Unspeakable atrocities 

Were unleashed.

Our progress comes

By stepping over broken glass

And trampling upon shattered dreams.

We could be better than this.

                                                             ~ CK

Photo by Grace Carson)

“Denver immigrant groups blast Sunday ICE raids as ‘terror’ tactic”

(Headline from The Colorado Independent)

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Opportunity's Final Call

Tim Lennox includes news items of note on his blog each day. Last week he shared the news of the last photo taken by the Mars Rover, Opportunity.

From the NASA press release:

Yesterday, Nasa told the world that it’s most successful space voyager ‘Opportunity‘ Mars Rover was dead eight months after it was caught in a gigantic Martian dust storm. The solar-powered rover last communicated with Earth on June 10, 2018 just as a planet-wide dust storm was covering the Red Planet. NASA had launched the twin rovers Opportunity and Spirit in 2003 to explore Martian rocks and soil. Spirit has not been operational for several years but Opportunity persevered.

On Mars Rover Opportunity's final photograph:

Bill Nelson, chief of the Opportunity mission’s engineering team at NASA’s Jet Propulsion Laboratory, said in an interview just after NASA declared the mission over. “This was the last image we ever took. We are looking at an incredibly small amount of sunlight — .002 percent of the normal sunlight that we would expect to see. If you were there, it would be late twilight. Your human eye would still be able to make out some features, but it would be very dark.”

Here is my own poem inspired by the news and the photo from NASA: 

Opportunity’s Last Call

One day,

In my ninth grade civics class

Taught by the coach

In the classroom by the gym,

There came a knock at the door.

“Open the door,” Coach said,

“It might be opportunity!”

To my young teenage self,

“Opportunity knocks” was already

Old hat enough

For me to laugh at Coach’s pun.

The living never cease

To look for opportunity.

It comes in all shades:

    great opportunity

    poor opportunity

    limited opportunity

    new opportunity

    missed opportunity

    last opportunity
    “have I got an opportunity for you!”

And it always comes with a promise

Wearing a smile

And raising an inquisitive brow.

Most live for it.

Some die for it.

On a distant Martian plain

Opportunity traveled much longer

Than the experts predicted.

New Opportunity

Became on-going Opportunity

Became continued Opportunity

Became old hat

Until that last grainy transmission

Of off-world twilight

Signaled one more lost Opportunity.

                                                        ~ CK

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