Members of Seniors for Peace here in Mill Valley gathered yesterday to read poems about peace. I chose a poem by my close friend Richard O. Moore, from his last book of published poems, Particulars of Place (Omnidawn, 2015). The poem is called "Jackstraw," and it's part of a longer series of poems called "Scaffolds."
This morning, reviewing the poems chosen by others, I found myself immersed again in the long-admired poetry of Wislawa Szymborska, who won a Nobel Prize in 1996. I thought I was familiar with her published work, but I discovered a poem I did not know, which could well have been read yesterday. Here it is:
Vietnam
"Woman, what's your name?" "I don't know."
"How old are you? Where are you from?" "I don't know."
"Why did you dig that burrow?" "I don't know."
"How long have you been hiding?" "I don't know."
"Why did you bite my finger?" "I don't know."
"Don't you know that we won't hurt you?" "I don't know."
"Whose side are you on?" "I don't know."
"This is war, you've got to choose." "I don't know."
"Does your village still exist?" "I don't know."
"Are those your children?" "Yes."