"This is a war."

---a mom in USAToday this week

March 20, 2003
War

time 6:30 pm feeling wounded-horrified-sad

You're standing on the sidewalk in your own city, your own beautiful city–town–village–wherever you may be. Minneapolis; Madison; Baghdad. You hear them first, like thunder; the ominous vibrations shake your skin. Then smoke fills the sky and there's a screaming overhead. Bombs. They're bombing your city–your own beautiful city–and the innocents within.

Rocks fly, people scream, fire tears through life. You can't even THINK of a single reason for someone to deserve this; and they preserve your pain, the horrible feeling thickens, sickening your soul and sinking your gut. I can't think of a reason, either.

The newly christened thought police of the US may condemn me for this, the FBI might start a file. Fine. Not like I can stop a regime, a superpower, an EMPIRE like this, anyway. But when you see those bombs, thundering down miles and miles away, on TV, when you read of the 'strategies' our great country is employing like some third-grader playing Battleship, when you hear ANYTHING about this war–

imagine it were your city. Imagine it were your people–you. And then think again.

---Lexi