America is like the trenches—
like the trenches of that first world war
divided by a "no man's land."
In each we stand our partisans beside us.
Our heads are mostly ducked; we don't look out—
avoiding barbs or bullets from critiques or guns.
What is this no man's land we vie for?
Some politicians in our pockets?
A cleansing till it's only partisans against ourselves?
Or could it be it's love that drives us? —
love so buried and disguised we cannot see it—
cannot see we'll never find it in the trenches.
The current mood of intransigence in all parties is well illustrated by Trench Warfare. And the metaphor suggests more of the same.m Which makes the closing stanza especially wondrous. The qualified hope embodied in it is pitch perfect, and it suggests our malaise is a moral issue and we must rouse ourselves morally to make certain we continue to focus in summoning love and not further hate. This poem can change minds!
thank you, daniel. and on your last statement, i hope it does. of course i struggle with this myself—part of the reason i need my wife and mennonite and quaker friends to keep me honest and keep me at least trying to love. -glen
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
America must be particularly like being in the trenches now from what I read. Racism, the statue of Columbus pulled down, mob demonstrations etc. Where is love?