We are not old-as men measure youth

we are not old--

but winter settles deeply around our fires

and the mantle lies ringed with silver

though we are not yet old.

We watched this planet

spin from war to useless war

(knowing it to be the essence of madness)

killing one another for any reason or no reason

and when we protested, they said

we were too young to understand

the ways of war or men

and they were correct.

Castro flexed his muscle, Jack grew more tense

missiles increased we crossed the sea

in the name of self-defense,

and in America's name, brought home shame

as the troops were dropped, and taken.

And in the city of wind,  killer stalked, nine dead

and still he walked and still we watched horror-filled . . .

the commonplace now rare tragedy then.

Jack rode the streets showered with gold--

only to be felled by the bastard son politic--

and we wept as a child saluted and the bright flame faded

as another was lit.

And Johnson stood before us --calm in his assumption--

and declared our eastern brothers desired our help

and more of our generation must learn to blaze

trails in jungles laced with forgotten paths--

forgotten disputes--forgotten bodies.

We marched beside tired black faces

and held our hearts as we all

were beaten down with night sticks

and black jacks and ghosts chanting

in the fire of a burning cross, "Die, nigger, die!"

But we couldn't die even when Martin

lay bleeding on a balcony and we wanted to die.

We awakened to sunlight dripping down our throats

students feeding flowers to M-16's

a firecracker pops, a guardsman jumps

then hearts ripped by flaming rifles of fear . . .

the cries of dying in the street

petals for the eyes of the dead.

Then Bobby lay murdered and we wept

and beat upon the wall . . .a head held,

screaming, an ambulance wail

silence.

Apollo died . . .astronauts burned,

we held our breath and cried . . .

body counts, nightly news,

the public's right to know,

censorship and power trips . . .

drugs and sex, and love . . .

we knew it all, lived it all, and wore it all to bed.

We burned flags and draft cards and sang,

"You can get anything you want . . ."

for 18 minutes and 20 seconds

ignoring the victims of Hamburger Hill.

Berkeley burned, the world turned

and shrunk in its newly washed denim

the Bear growled, the wolf howled

and the cobra spat its venom.

Liberty fell as the napalm hell

ashed bodies, minds and children.

We learned to fly and we learned to die

as lights turned to spiders,

and we passed joints, earned no points

and fled to eternal mountains.

Gurus brought peace as we sank to our knees

and drank every word they gave us.

We were the misbegotten body politic--

sure of our morality--assured of our insanity--

and we wrote and sang and played

and begged our brothers and sisters

not to die for titanium crowns cased in fool's gold.

Small steps enlarged, and the lover's moon

brought home new romance as the Eagle found port

and the world watched . . .space travellers all.

We marched in Washington and sang in the cold dampness of early winter

while warm in his new clothes HE watched football

and only later, on the six o'clock news . . . became aware of our existence.

And we knew when Teddy swam while yet another died

the vision finally ended . . .no reruns for us . . .

dreams of Jack relegated to dust and knives twisted in our backs

to make us dance . . .

the last day of honor,the sunset of romance.

Charles grabbed our attention and held us by the throat

in the pale L.A. night--

paranoia, fear--murders revealed

in the smoggy California light.

And we writhed on couches built of nails

as he carved a cross between his eyes

and claimed he could walk on water . . .

And we understood that our country understood

no one would be free from the war or the violence

until every young person died--

in the streets

or

in the jungles

and they killed an entire generation

out of pride or lack of it.                         

And Christmas came and went and  came again

and still, feet rotted in the jungle dampness

and heels cooled in prison cells.

The old men's words rang through the iron bars

and cinder blocked halls--

we were too young to understand

the ways of war or men.

And they were correct.

Rebecah Hall