2014 10 – In Situ (poem)


Someone acts strangely

in having the right to hit you



In Tornados they flew

to that crowded city of human shields

where they bombed to woo

those who wouldn’t yield.


In hitting they don’t want hit



They would be outraged if you did,

it’s their irreversible right

to give you a hundred thousand whacks.


Didn’t you learn that in the crib:

you don’t hit back at the light,

lie back and take it in the ribs.


The planes sing in war lust,

the land below must die,

its development isn’t considered just,

this birth-of-a-nation is a lie.


Much like when the hangman

held up the head and heart,

and Elizabeth was a fan,

then England was considered an upstart.


Did medievalism disappear

with the modern weapons of war,

is death now more gentle, without a tear,

when heads not cut explode in gore.


Wilson John Haire.