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A Child Of Darfur
by David Sparenberg
2009-07-28 08:49:25
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You explain it, in the eyes of a child, how children are born into this slaughterhouse world and here is hunger and war; here is neglect and pain, thirst and famine, hatred, crime and abandonment.  But

a child is just a child, a miracle happening in a season of play.  But
pain is bigger than children.  Fear is bigger. Wounds in the heart where blood paints heart shapes; mind blown skulls.  Death.

You explain that

if a child can understand the inhuman, then I can understand how madness is a mother of children who breastfeeds nations and murder

murder is a father’s breath, casting shadows of phantoms—being men in armed uniforms—onto the hiding places, the secret treasures, the dream incubations, of God.

Child Faces.

But if a child can explain

your, our, the adult explanation back to me, to us and still be a child, in the trance-dance of innocence, and look back at life with children’s eyes, wide with wonder; images of a dove taking

flight out of a palmed clod of clay or angel walking dream waters, being a fisher of salvation for drowning souls—for

heavy malice is corruption, dry, the husk, the waste, the crown of thorns stabbing the heart and war the fires of hell; then I too

will feel no pain, no pain or shame, outrage or despair, no, no, no, no agony or down in my bowels where conscience shudders gut wrenching convulsions of anguish and disgust (rebellion is the first man, is body first, responsive flesh)…  But I will conform too, compliantly shut up, be withered as well, normal and withdraw into desiccation

silent as stone when storms break over this earth of homelessness.  Rags of living refuse; refuge. Refugees. Victims. O loaves!  O fishes!  How vast the multitudes in the lands of possession where demons, devils, shape-shift into us! How overwhelming, brethren!

People, there is terror.  There is terror and terrorism.  There are armies; there are terrorists: legions, armies of terrorists.  There is horror. There are vampires, ghouls. There are monsters, psychotics, psychopaths, politicians, profiteers. War.  And there is Death.  Death unbound. DEATH in all caps. Death and children. Death as direction, death at horizons.  But a child a child would slip away, would sail off to find the Spirit House of God, where loved ones lay dreaming, where love is collectively asleep.  O Gautama!  O Lord Jesus!  New baby Moses in a basket of trust on this plagued Nile of tears and trouble. Sorrows, brethren, sorrows!  Woe!  Now who’s gonna save us? Who’s gonna save us now, we who slay the flesh of tomorrow?  Blood.  Ashes.  Drought. Famine. Howling—Dust.

Darkness, brethren. Witness, brethren. Portents: Dark descending. Dread of dark. Savage sun setting, furious, over all the earth at one and the same hour. One and the same… Imagine!

Come near. Prophesy. Explain infanticide, explain state sponsored crime.  Marauding, wild dogs of Golgotha, the dog-men who chew bones of life, sacred gone mad, and the venomous swarm of our insects of war.  But you, you and I, verify soullessness.  Explain

dare, tell it, clarify.  Turn genocide into a shape that will not haunt for generations.  What can, what does, it mean to say, as we stand apart, like statues of narcissism in death’s garden of guilt, mute and surrounded by networks of mass graves?  To say Mass. To mouth words. Liturgy:  Child.  Elliot’s Hollow Men.  Nietzsche’s Last Man.  Go! Tell the betrayed of Africa: “The hyenas are praying.  The

scavengers of slaughter are the gods of war.”  Shout it out:

Child of Darfur! 

from THESE ARE THE WORDS, Prose, Parables & Prose Poems by David Sparenberg

 
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Emanuel Paparella2009-07-27 11:50:08
To explain that is much harder than eradicating hunger in the world for which we have he know-how but lack the political will. To explain that is to plumb the depth of our dehumanization which allows children to live in the world as we know it. Dante, a supreme poet, attempted it some 800 years ago by journey to the moon looking at the earth from there in all its natural beuaty and without borders and exclaiming °And I saw that garden that makes us so nasty."


Alexander Mikhaylov2009-07-28 00:50:43
Would have been a nice pitch for some left wing sectarian meeting but alas... not exactly a poetry, quite the opposite, in fact


Alexander Mikhaylov2009-07-28 00:52:21
"a child is just a child, a miracle happening in a season of play..."
Ahem... not precisely a miracle... (Sometimes the use of a condom might help to resolve some of future problems)


David Sparenberg2009-07-29 18:20:04
Emanuel, I am always appreciative of your insightful and thought extending comments. Alexander Mikhoaylov ??? --the problem in Darfur is not about condoms. It is not a problem of over population. The problem is genocide--politically organized rape of women and children, and mass murder of the civilian population.


Alexander Mikhaylov2009-08-01 00:51:34
'Emanuel, I am always appreciative of your insightful and thought extending comments. Alexander Mikhoaylov ??? --the problem in Darfur is not about condoms. It is not a problem of over population. The problem is genocide--politically organized rape of women and children, and mass murder of the civilian population.'
Excuse me but who is this Emmanuale? And why, for God's sake, my last name is being mispronounced? (I had believed that up to this time people living in US have got used to slavic names... What is so difficult about writing one's name correctly? Is it sheer stupidity or more than that?
And speaking of condoms - of course, it is not a problem about condoms, it is a problem about your pinko- propaganda stupidity


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