Bombers

Stay on my periphery
And you can strike with all the force
That makes you great.
You bombers are all alike
When the sweeping is done
When your friends are bone fragments and bone meal
When blood and sawdust mingle
In a festive air
Of chemical intoxicants.
No slaughterhouse smells like this,
Nothing in heaven or hell
Smells like this.
You want the peace of constant war,
The soothing beat of constant explosion.
You want…
you want…
you’ll never know
Whether the wanting was yours
Or part of the package they gave you.
Can you accept what you inflict?
Can you dwell in a false heaven
Of all smoke and no mirrors?
I have no heart to kill the killers,
Bomb the bombers,
Undream the undreamers.

My will and skill go out to those
Who stay behind,
Who put down the pen to mop the blood,
Who offer the lap to pillow the savaged head.

I will commit a day to commemorate
All bombers past and future,
That they may return to me
Undesired,
Undeserving of a rest.

The rest of us deserve a break
From life ever-blasting.