A FACE FAMILIAR TO ME ONCE
http://www.maverickmagazine.com/articles/184/1/A-FACE-FAMILIAR-TO-ME-ONCE/Page1.html
Jefferson Adams
Jefferson Adams is a freelance writer living in San Francisco. His
poems, essays, and photographs have appeared in Antioch Review, Blue
Mesa Review, CALIBAN, Hayden's Ferry Review, Huffington Post, the
Mississippi Review, and Slate among others.
By Jefferson Adams
Published on 02/4/2003
Nothing anyone says touches the situation.
Strangers who most love their countries
Face each other over tables.
Everyone agrees that senseless killing
Is senseless. Not everyone agrees
That sensible killing is senseless.
Strangers who most love their countries
Face each other over tables.
Everyone agrees that senseless killing
Is senseless. Not everyone agrees
That sensible killing is senseless.
Nothing anyone says touches the situation.
Strangers who most love their countries
Face each other over tables.
Everyone agrees that senseless killing
Is senseless. Not everyone agrees
That sensible killing is senseless.
Sensible...Senseless.
Words—whose meanings grow more distant
With each breath. While these strangers who care
And can face anyone but themselves, talk
Across tables, beautiful mothers are raped
With their beautiful daughters—and killed.
While this family of strangers who care breaks
For coffee and snacks, everywhere else
Bare tables are the least of worries:
When (comes the cry) will the sensible killing end?
When (goes the call) will the senseless killing end?
When (sings the chorus) will the sorrow ever cease?
My mother often said that the difference
Between people who love you
And people who don't, is that
People who love you feel sad
When you die...
Copyright © Jefferson Adams, 2002. All Rights Reserved.
Strangers who most love their countries
Face each other over tables.
Everyone agrees that senseless killing
Is senseless. Not everyone agrees
That sensible killing is senseless.
Sensible...Senseless.
Words—whose meanings grow more distant
With each breath. While these strangers who care
And can face anyone but themselves, talk
Across tables, beautiful mothers are raped
With their beautiful daughters—and killed.
While this family of strangers who care breaks
For coffee and snacks, everywhere else
Bare tables are the least of worries:
When (comes the cry) will the sensible killing end?
When (goes the call) will the senseless killing end?
When (sings the chorus) will the sorrow ever cease?
My mother often said that the difference
Between people who love you
And people who don't, is that
People who love you feel sad
When you die...
Copyright © Jefferson Adams, 2002. All Rights Reserved.