The Death Marches
By Grant Maher


All night, I dreamed of the future
And glory for the Nation.
“Without the war, everything would be better.”
People say.

Sure, war is a drag, but so is hunger and cold;
What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
Yankee boots trampled Germany and Japan
And look at them now.

Let’s just up and say it: “World Empire”—
Once a remote fantasy
Now a distinct possibility;
A choice, even.

Imagine, just for a minute,
That we have all agreed
To stretch out our hands
And collectively seize the ring—

Nothing less than everything, and everyone.
We could make hunger and cold cease to exist, could we not?
In the morning, I forgot this dream;
This ain’t Bush country out here.

Disclaimer: the above poem does not necessarily reflect the political views of the poet. It could be satire.