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Array
(
[sid] => 125613
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Srebrenica's Descent
[time] => 2006-09-11 13:37:12
[hometext] => My poem Srebrenica's Descent recalls the thousands of bodies buried in the forested hills that surround the town of Srebrenica, a designated United Nations safe area at the time of the massacre, as Bosnian Serb troops closed in.
[bodytext] => This is not an artifact but the truth. Each kilometer a mosaic built up by centuries of overlapping civilizations, everyone finding at least something that reminds him of home. They are the tactile impressions you remember all your life. Love, friendship, untouched nature. Can any nation -- or individual -- withstand the maniacal passion of mass sentiment? Each of us has supposed to dispatch our root tribal instincts to a predetermined station in the mind, a place where contempt is not a thing to be despised. Ethnicity is the language of war in the Balkans. The murderer and the casualty each justify their occupation in the obscure grounds of reason on which all moral conviction rests. When an opinion is strongly rooted in unconscious emotion, it gains jurisdiction by having a measureless weight of argument against it. Ancestral fealty methodically held in check suppresses the guttural utterances of genocidal purpose. The safest way to claim national soil is to eradicate any trace of clannish permanence -- mass graves to house the enterprise of religious certitude. In moist earth, the lessons of brotherhood interred and unlearned. This city should be surrounded with barbed wire or a high wall and turned into a museum of human madness. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 375 [topic] => 41 [informant] => otisandus [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => political )
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