by David Radavich
I confess: I didn’t really see
the grief-stricken girl
by the seashore.
I didn’t know her suffering.
I’ve only seen pictures.
That’s why it
didn’t seem real.
But I felt for her
genuine pain.
And images came
to me—
just as they are
not now
unlocking their shapes,
their unforgettable
colors.
You will please
forgive me.
Honesty is best.
Even dull honesty
with no ripped-off heads
bloody and toy-like
that only have
been imagined by
the privileged
who in their silence
collude
and oppress.
I am safe and warm.
I have food. And money.
I don’t see bodies
torn by war
for breakfast.
The blind can
never do justice.
David Radavich's poetry publications include Slain Species (Court Poetry Press, London), By the Way (Buttonwood Press, 1998), and Great Hits (Pudding House Press, 2000), as well as individual poems in anthologies and magazines. His plays have been performed across the U.S. and abroad, including five Off-Off-Broadway productions. He also enjoys writing essays on poetry, drama, and contemporary issues. His latest book is America Bound: An Epic for Our Time (Plain View Press, 2007).
__________________________________________________