by Gordon Gilbert
*
In the not-so-distant past, genocidal acts, a holocaust, distant from our shores, rumoured only, but for most unseen, finally revealed in retrospect indelibly to soldiers’ eyes, brought home in photographs, not to be denied. Ah, we said, if only… If only… But we did not know at the time, only later, and alas, too late to do what we surely would have done had we only known… But now this genocide comes to us live, like a fog slowly lifting, revealing the landscapes of barbarity: bombs falling; the destruction of homes & neighborhoods, schools & hospitals, mosques & churches; the death of civilians— babies, children, women, men; the cries and wails of those (for now) still alive. Survivors, searching in the rubble for those they lost. We know this time. We cannot say we do not know.
*
Editor's note: The title of this poem is a line from “To the Days” by Adrienne Rich.
*
Gordon Gilbert is a writer living in NYC's west village. During the pandemic, he often found solace and an inner sense of peace by taking walks along the nearby Hudson River; now he does so as unwilling witness to the ongoing genocide in Gaza.
Took the words right out of my mouth. Thank you for this timely and needed poem, Gordon.
Finely crafted, simply stated, neutral in tone ... the delivery and impact solid, heavy and real ... thank you Gordon Gilbert, there is no mistaking this time, is there?