War Poem

How can I know
what it’s like
to be a woman
in Iraq
or Palestine
or Afghanistan or Kosovo
My mother knows
She heard the bombs whistle
echoing the mountains
landing around her
At the other end of the ridge
across the valley
she watched the houses burning
I saw the rubble in 1971
It was gone in 93
replaced by modern apartments
of post war prosperity
My mother lived on bread and water
and seasonal fruit
As a child
we bought fruit by the box
not the bag
My father was a runner for the Germans
When Mussolini was overthrown
he did the same for the American
He was 13

I’ve got war fever
I walked down Swanston Street
with the 50,000
I stopped at Flinders Street
and watched the river of people
flowing along the tram tracks
Watched the faces
their eyes reflecting back at me
the lament I feel in my liver
My mother won’t talk about this war
she loves to talk
She talks about every mundane thing
but not the war
I’m not watching it on TV
When I’m in the car
I listen to Radio National
I listen to talk back
I want to hear what people think
Luis is watching it
he says
its the best science fiction film he’s seen
But really
he’s one of those types
that needs to know what’s going on
so he won’t go mad
Not me
in the comfort of my rented house
in a middle class street
To many tears

Organic chicken on the stove
Jo’s home grown apple
the dog asleep at my feet
my daughter doing year 12
focused with opportunity
Over the radio a father in Baghdad
said he drugged his sons
so they could sleep through
the horrific sounds
The closest I came to knowing
was the Ash Wednesday bush fires
in 1983
The week my son was born
I was in Hospital
For a day
I had no contact with my husband
I knew that the fires were in our area
We were lucky
the wind changed
With new babe in arms
we drove home
through the aftermath
of a still burning forest
Blackened tree
piles of bloated cow carcasses
huge pits to doze them into
and the remains
of what were once familiar house
My mother kept repeating
"this is just like the war"
Even then
I didn’t experience the immediate impact
I was safe in hospital
But I experienced
the trauma of not knowing
That does not equate
to the plight of A woman in Iraq
I can only take comfort
in the thousand of faces
that walked with me
The millions all over the world
who have opposed this war
At least the Iraqi people know
that we
the people of the world
support them
Send soap and toothbrushes
pray for peace
be kind to each other
and ourselves
stay informed
What else is there
Go and be with the people
I would if I could
but I can’t
so I will be with the people I am with
And be grateful for my good fortune
And the rain on my garden
On a quite Saturday afternoon
in Clifton Hill
© 2003