For you, citizens, I bear arms
With a choked-up cry for peace
And a story known to my soul,
Spat out in feverish sleeps.
I don't create war to be waged,
Nor bid to hoist the light
That retains the shape of Law
Against the poisoned night.
War is evil, borrowed from hell
Where landscapes tinge the blood.
On the back of heaven it's been felt
Since Noah's murky flood.
If you abuse my name as I go
To clear the ground for peace,
I'll rub between my palms
Your victory while you sleep.
by James Wm. Chichetto
... who is a freelance poet, with eight books of verse to his
credit, and works appearing in The Native American Poetry
Anthology, The First Abbey Wood Anthology, The
Boston Globe, The Boston Phoenix,
The Colorado Review, Gargoyle,
The Manhattan Review, Poem,
The Paterson Review. He is related to combat
veterans of the Korean War and World War Two; and teaches at
Stonehill College.
