The Venomous Pangs of September

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The Venomous Pangs of September

Chris Chinwe Ulasi

Armed with millennium’s managed order,

The powerful’s adolescent stride and swagger,

The twin-mouthed diplomat’s pied piper,

Now thousands die from the bomb of a sniper.

The dead has no voice to judge the living,

Or ask how his dying shall have meaning

While his country’s symbols of strength fly overhead

And the angels of death hide in their hallowed stead.

The cry of war has swollen the cities of human desire--

Never mind what lesson history books inspire:

That war solves no problem only breeds more war;

Yet, high is the drumbeat of war. Does anyone care?

I know millions who care and mean it,

But wonder if the leaders know this truth

Beyond their banal slogans of convenience,

Giddy with the glare and air of intemperance.

Can America keep her passionate promise

To defend freedom wherever it is amiss?

Now, utterly stung by the venomous pang of hatred,

Will her actions prove as ardent as it’s measured?

Amidst the storm that surrounds that assured day

Of September 11, 2001, we contemplate the way--

How tricky this dread and hate must be answered;

Only so that one day this may make sense, indeed.

Let them that defaced the luminance of a shining apple

Wear a bold disheveled face, and let the ripple

Of shame spread and slowly cast away their sight,

Until their hate dissolve in decay under a cold blight.

Ulasi, a professor of communications at Texas Southern University is Executive Editor of USAfrica

9/27/01