I wrote this poem some years ago, before the names “ISIS” and “ISIL” and “Daesh” appeared on the news, probably when the Taliban were in great force in Afghanistan. I think it bears posting now.
And when you have broken down all the statues
and torn down all the banners, knocked out all
the stained glass, ripped up all the paintings,
when the televisions are silent and the movie screens
are black, when every woman’s hair
is shrouded and every man’s face has its beard,
when nothing remains to look at
except angry faces scowling and nothing
remains to hear except the chanting of their rage,
when the tongues that would not be silent
have been torn out and burnt like leaves, still
the birds will sing every spring, and the flowers
bloom, red, violet, white, cream and yellow,
unless you burn up the world, and then
you will burn yourselves with it, and still
the sun will shine.
Antinous for Everybody 