These Days In History

The countries lined up like beads on a necklace,
spitting words out like international and order,
some of them ran together;
And they promised us, never again.
But there is foam gurgling out of children's mouths
as they writhe and convulse,
their faces pulled taunt and blank,
like a doll's face,
eyes unflinchingly wide, pupils tight,
as life is drawn out of them,
like a demon leaving the exorcised.
You lied,
because the countries line up like beads on a necklace,
spitting nothing out,
just wordlessly shaking their heads at the hundreds of people already dead;
And the only thing you're promising is that there will probably be more.
But you said,
Never. Again.
You cannot politically correct and excuse yourself of the word never,
or title the hope you gave, a miscommunication.
You lied,
and there is foam at their mouths,
and if you don't climb out of your silk sheets,
soon it'll be on the world's,
and there will be no international or order,
or those same words running together.
Because he lied too,
he amusedly tossed death among his people like confetti
their bodies strewn,
like wedding rice to be picked up by the birds;
but we knew, we knew that the devil's promises are never kept,
but you, you were supposed to be more.
And now my chest has the unshakable  ache,
of a dead daughter's untouched room,
because you said, never again.
And it has been again and again and again,
and soon it will be a 'then',
until even the history books forget them,
and the schoolchildren will confuse them on the test with all the others,
and all the pens will run dry,
and we will finish off all the trees to cut down and shave into paper,
because we've used them all up,
with the names and dates of all the other tragedies.
And so the countries will line up like beads on a necklace,
and they won't even shake their heads,
most won't even come,
and they will promise us nothing,
and then they will retreat back to their lonely lands,
quietly turning to their own affairs.

-anna sluder