Dear President

With my head in my hands

Dear President,
How dare you speak of God
as you present cold, useless medals
to parents who have lost their sons?
Your call sent their young souls marching
to meet too early with death,
without glory or purpose
beyond your personal mission.

You have created the enemy,
and this enemy fights us in our own land.
It invades our homes
and poisons our minds.
Shame on us for bending to fear,
but shame on you for telling us lies.

Dear President,
How dare you speak of God
as you call for more death?
Civilian, combatant
Soldier, person
Bullet, explosive
Roadside bomb, suicide bomber –
We are sick of the killing.
And this cause is not just.

Dear President,
Please stop.


[Note: I try not to make a habit out of polemics, but after seeing a bit of the ceremony where Bush presented awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor to Cpl. Jason Dunham tonight, and hearing the details of his proposal for a new strategy in Iraq, I could take no more. It all spilled out onto a page of my notebook, and I thank you for reading. Additionally, in no way do I mean to dishonor the memory of Cpl. Dunham through this poem, but rather to defy the notion that his death (or any of the Iraq war deaths) was somehow necessary.]

2 Responses to “Dear President”

  1. 1 John Paul January 13, 2007 at 8:14 pm

    Thanks for this. I assume in the second stanza the enemy is fear?

    —John Paul

  2. 2 dailytransit January 14, 2007 at 9:56 pm

    Your assumption would be correct 🙂 I’m glad you enjoyed the poem.

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January 2007