Thundering at Daybreak

As cold sweat pours from my body, I wake
to dark hounds baying at fleeing gray hares:
to sounds of war thundering at daybreak.

Oh, Holy Fool, quaking for Allah, break
the fox's chains, the fox who cowers in lairs;
as cold sweat pours from my body, I wake

knowing the hound, the fox, the hares will take
us from peace of hearth and home, from our cares
to sounds of war thundering at daybreak.

Beware of false prophets, who shiver and shake,
serpents who delight in killing human hares.
As cold sweat pours from my body, I wake

to falling towers--a large death. They slake
their blood-thirst with innocent lives. Who dares--
to sounds of war echoing at daybreak--

who dares to strike again? My heart aches.
Is this the end of choice? Must we forbear?
As cold sweat pours from my body, I wake
to sounds of war thundering at daybreak.

© 2002 Cynthia E. Bagley, all rights reserved.

Published in January 2002 Acumen Literary Journal.



Sunday was the three year anniversary of when the U.S. invaded Iraq. I wrote this poem during the U.S. invasion of Afghanistan. We lived by the Ramstein Air Base and could hear the jets leave for their missions.

I remember the death of 2749 people connected to the WTC. I still pray for their families.