What they don’t tell you on the news Is that the sound of an explosion Is quite different in real life. What they don’t tell you on the news Is that ordinary people, like most, Never wished to be martyrs. What they don’t tell you on the news Is that Dad didn’t do the shopping Because Mom wanted the family To huddle together under The same roof. What they don’t tell you on the news Is the fear with which a father Picked up their dazed 4-year-old Daughter To run away. What they don’t tell you on the news Is the millions of dreams nearing The edge of the cliff to dive Into a valley of obscurity. What they don’t tell you on the news Is the history of a nation’s fading Souls, the immobilizing dearth At the hearth of every home. What the news doesn’t tell you Is that the forever-gone, too, like you, would Have wanted to grow old, would Have wanted to tell stories, would Have wanted to write poems, would Have wanted to have a wedding, would Have wanted to cultivate their gardens, would Have wanted to share carefree laughs with friends, would Have wanted to build a fantastic close-knit family of four, would Have wanted to do something and have the time to age and change Their minds and then to age some more and change their minds once More but You know A corpse Can never Wantagain.
Dear Mahdi
If I were religious, I would be praying for an end to this madness, and for peace, and for the well-being of yourself and your whole family, and that of innocent people everywhere.
I do not understand those who desire war and conflict. Your poem strikes to my heart as an emotional missile - the only kind I can countenance. The world needs more poets, and fewer war mongers.
Your friend
Dave
No words, Mahdi. My heart goes out to you and your family.