On poetry: Why we need to remember and want to forget

We too often forget that we live in a time of war. The violence is elsewhere and the soldier come from places we in the middle class suburbs know little about. But war is our reality and, in this brilliant poem by Rosalind Brackenbury, we are reminded why we try so hard to forget this even as we know we must not.

I want to forget their names, the generals,
advisors, puppet rulers,
the puffed-up and the brought-low,

I want not to know them,
not hear their plans, their excuses,
the President and the President’s men,
the Pope with his white smoke for voodoo,

the suits, ties, teeth, insignia,
the guns, the names of trucks and weapons.

I want to forget them all,
to be washed of them,
to begin again: where no one knows who anyone is,
or what he believes.

To forget, however, is impossible — though, to ignore is not. And the effort at forgetting is the reminder that we can’t, and shouldn’t, that the generals and presidents and popes count on our ignorance, on their disguises and that the “one clear word” — humanity — must never be spoken.

Author: hankkalet

Hank Kalet is a poet and freelance journalist. He is the economic needs reporter for NJ Spotlight, teaches journalism at Rutgers University and writing at Middlesex County College and Brookdale Community College. He writes a semi-monthly column for the Progressive Populist. He is a lifelong fan of the New York Mets and New York Knicks, drinks too much coffee and attends as many Bruce Springsteen concerts as his meager finances will allow. He lives in South Brunswick with his wife Annie. View all posts by hankkalet