if you put magic shoes
on the feet of a wooden goat
it will fly to the moon
if you put magic shoes
on the feet of an oak
it will sing a lullaby
if you put magic shoes
on the feet of the earth
it will swallow up the sky:
but there:
there under the rubble
are feet and shoes
separate
separated
broken
b ro ke n
bloodied
bloody
silent
silenced
still
stilled
b r o k en
if you put magic shoes on
the feet of a bomb
will it refuse to touch
even the hair
even the shoe
even the foot
even the goat
even the smile
even the life
even the broken doll
of a little child.
So very powerful to see a field full of empty shoes and boots , to signify the loss of lives through wars. The impact certainly reaches out to those who see such an image….like the loss of life in your poem…
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Thanks Eileen…
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Oh dear Rajani. The war is Gaza is so terrible but there are wonderful peace movements happening around the globe. Maybe there is a protest group near you. It may not end the war but all the voices raised in protest are powerful. Otherwise you could donate money to Medicin Sans Frontiers or similar. I do that that and feel that at least it’s doing one small positive thing. We are all only human and can only do what is within our own power.
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Thanks Suzanne. A Gazan poet recently posted urging poets to keep writing about Gaza and if they can’t to share poetry by poets from Palestine… everything we do and write amplifies the voices asking for peace and for children to be safe… and you are so right, it is all we can do… but do we must! Kudos to you for your positive actions.
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The news about a ceasefire is positive. I hope it happens. It’s awful to think of all those people walking with their children from danger to uncertainty.
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In the old myths, a weal was either blessed or broken, according to whether a ruler followed sacred procedure or not. Poets set and measured that golden mean, offering praise or satire to describe the weal’s health. Long gone, all of that, with gold become the only mean and power a profane exercise of will for gold. Who needs magic shoes if you have enough military provenance for victory? Who says any of the primary truths have changed one iota? Those two weals are both roughed here with magic shoes slipped onto a bomb and takes us all to the side of death, invulnerable, everlasting, pure, dead. A feral turn on the sovereign duty here Rajani, but how else to crack the conundrum?
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How else, indeed… a poem is just that, a few words, but maybe it is just hope sent out into the void, hoping it meets more like itself… thanks Brendan…
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Raj, my God, this hit me hard. You took that almost gleeful prompt and used it to remind us all that war is relentless. War is about children. War is about power gone insane. Thank you for a potent reminder that, among other things, I need to call the White House today. Again.
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And thank you for taking positive action against the insanity. This poem was an instantaneous reaction to the prompt… looks like all I am writing about these days is war and climate…
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OMG! 😦
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Every prompt, every poem – takes me to either climate or war… 😦
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And you take us there too. Which is as it should be. We must look. We should weep and shriek. Thank you for continually bearing witness, a poet’s task. I can’t seem to just now; I’m glad some can, and I don’t think anyone does it better than you.
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That is very generous…thank you. When a war on children is literally live on our devices for over a hundred days, it is hard to think of much else. 😦
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I wish I knew…
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😦
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❤ ❤ ❤
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Thank you… it was hard to write… am just waiting for someone, the ICJ maybe, to stop it….
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This is a brilliant piece of writing ❤️
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Thanks so much.
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I like the thought of the possibility of putting magic shoes on a bomb so that it will destroy nothing at all! That would be wonderful magic, wouldn’t it?
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Yes it would… but peace is so elusive in this world we’ve made… and innocent babies are paying the price. 😦
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More magic shoes – and how I would love some, Rajani! I enjoyed your surrealistic, magical poem. I love the wordplay with all the broken feet and shoes.
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Thanks Kim… we need all the magic we can find to stop the horrible slaughter of children…
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Powerful.
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Thanks so much.
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Ouch. Wow. OMG. I love the whole words and the broken ones, too, thank you. Speechless. Sharing.
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Thanks so much, Susan and for sharing too…
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This is one of the best anti-war poems ever. I wish those bombs would decombust in the air or, better yet, never be launched at all. Your closing lines will stay with me a long time.
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Thanks so much, Sherry… yes, I agree, never be launched, never be made at all…
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So heartbreaking Rajani! When magic breaks crude reality begins I guess.
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Thanks Sumana… but we live in “what ifs”…. so we can cope.. a little…
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