Iraqi Conflict, poem by Gary Beck

    This morning I took the bus to the village where I was born to discuss events with the imam, who has counseled me since childhood. I told him of my confusion since the Americans invaded. They made all sorts of promises, if we didn’t resist their attack and like many of my shiite friends I left the army without fighting, and then our country surrendered. There was little resistance at first, despite infidel occupation of our sacred Islamic land. Then the cowardly flight of Saddam, which meant the end of sunni rule, gave hope to my shiite brothers that we would be allowed to worship in the glory of the one true faith, no longer fearing persecution. Then sunni resentment was inflamed and disorder threatened the land. Roadside bombs flourished like flowers, whose blossoms erupted in death. The men of Al Qaeda arrived, burning with zeal for destruction, lusting to slay Americans, or other foreign invaders, and explosions became daily song. There was talk of a new government that would give us all democracy, but the son of the murdered El Sadr aroused discontent in the poor, and hatred in the fanatics against American soldiers, and the new Iraqi government. Then the sons and daughters of Iraq became targets of terror, and their deaths bring us much sorrow. My older brother joined the police and was killed by a suicide bomber. My sister became a translator for the minister of Education, and was shot down in the street like a dog. When I was summoned by Al Qaeda to fight the infidel enemy, I didn’t know who was the enemy. There are foreign occupiers, the displaced loyalists of Saddam, our powerless new government, the cunning agents of Iran, the treacherous men of Syria, the bloodthirsty henchmen of terror, and the smug people from the U.N.

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