A Letter.

Antoon, Sinan

A Letter

 Silently
 I address them
 The dead Iraqis
 Where do we stand now?
 Give or take a few hundred thousand?

 ...

 Had you been birds,
 your disappearance might have caused some outrage
 You could have flown en masse
 over a metropolis,
 clouded its skies for a few hours
 in protest.
 Meteorologists and bird-watchers
 surely would have noticed
 Had you been trees,
 you would have made a beautiful forest
 whose destruction would have been deemed a crime
 against the planet.
 Had you been words,
 you would have formed a precious book
 or manuscript whose loss
 would be mourned across the world
 But you are none of these
 And you had to pass quietly and uneventfully
 No one will campaign for you
 No one cares to represent you
 No absentee ballots have been issued or sent
 You will have to wait decades
 for a monument,
 or a tiny museum.
 If you are lucky
 in provoking retroactive guilt
 your names will be inscribed on a wall somewhere
 But until then, you may welcome more to your midst
 and form a vast silent chorus
 of ghosts,
 condemning the spectators and the actors.
 Exeunt Omens!