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Weapons of Mass Destruction

by Dori Marler

It isn't what you may think.
It's not a smooth open space
since the land mines were removed.
No, it's not like that at all.
What is left of the landscape
after they've dug out
all those lethal bombs,
those killer missiles,
is twisted, scarred,
misshapen little bumps.
Craters where they don't belong.
Where there was beauty,
a gently sloping knoll,
sweetly rising mountains
with fragrant valleys,
now is a battle field,
disfigured forever.
Has the enemy surrendered?
It's a question that will remain
a mystery for many years.
Meanwhile reconstruction is useless
A futile attempt to restore
those melon hills.
It is suggested that
where the damage is too deep,
an artificial prop
may be the answer.
Like the scenery of a play
to be rolled out, slipped into place
for a special performance
then rolled back into storage
like the sets on a stage.
When I first saw the wreckage of it,
I wanted to turn away,
but now I see it in a new light.
I now see only life in those scars.
A medal of honor for the survivor.

Dori loves to cook, sing, paint and write. She was born and raised in the small town of Eddystone, Pennsylvania, named after the Eddystone lighthouse in the English Channel. Dori started writing poetry at age seven and she has been a presence in the Los Angeles Poetry Community more than fifteen years. "Weapons of Mass Destruction" is an acknowledgement of what many people endure with courage and dignity, and an attempt to express understanding with simplicity and grace.