I wrote a poem tonight and submitted it to one of my favorite sites, poetsagainstthewar.org I wrote one about hope and seeing the future in the eyes of our children. I may share it here later on...

I decided to see if any records of previous poems had been archived of mine and found a few. I was saddened to see the time line. I wrote one dating 11/03. In a few months, it's going to be nearly four years since then and we are still in a war with no end. I thought the piece I wrote held even greater meaning for my self. I share this one now:

Leaving Oz

How do we leave the land of Oz?
We were blown here swift and hard
That tornado shook us to the bone
We blew into a world not our own

There’s no place like home, as Dorothy says
There’s no place like home and no red shoed clicks
We’re left in this dusty dry patch of earth with sticks
And dead munchkins are everywhere

How do we leave this place and bring back our girls and boys?
There are craters and scars, a pockmarked face.
But oh boy, the witch is caught, the witch is dead.
And yet, the world is not safe; it’s filled with dread.

We got him. And yet, who have we got?
A weak tired man.
The wizard never was.
And still, we ask how do we leave the land of Oz?

No, this is not a land somewhere over the rainbow.
This is not a dream.
This is blood and boots and dust and
The haunting of cries and screams

There’s no place like home
There’s no place like home
Where is home for those we leave behind?

We don’t see the coffins flying home.
We don’t see the WMD’s
We don’t see
We don’t see


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