In line at lunch I cross my fork and spoon
to ward off complicity–the ordered life
our leaders have offered us. Thin as a knife,
our chance to live depends on such a sign
while others talk and The Pentagon from the moon
is bouncing exact commands: “Forget your faith;
be ready for whatever it takes to win: we face
annihilation unless all citizens get in line.”
I bow and cross my fork and spoon: somewhere
other citizens more fearfully bow
in a place terrorized by their kind of oppressive state.
Our signs both mean, “You hostages over there
will never be slaughtered by my act.” Our vows
cross: never to kill and call it fate.
(William Stafford)
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Based on Topics: Place Poems, Fate & Destiny Poems, Belief & Faith Poems, Sign & Symbol PoemsBased on Keywords: annihilation, oppressive, hostages, pentagon, terrorized