Tomorrow they will rise, expecting the yellow of the sun and the ring of life laughing as it plays in the streets.
Pandora’s box
I always think it’s more fun to read a poem without any blurb or description beforehand. A blurb might curtail your imagination and we wouldn’t want that. However, I will refer to and expound on some parts of the poem in the reflection section so you can see my interpretation.
Also, if you would like to experience the poem the way I do, re-read the penultimate stanza a few times on a loop as quickly as you can, then read the last stanza.
Also, comment down below if you know the piece of literature that I quote from in the poem.
A solitary plane in the moonlight. The stars are quiet, burning softly. For they know not what comes.
What the plane has unleashed into the night: A box. Just a simple box. Falling slowly.
As it descends its borders seem to blur until it transforms from an object into an emotion Now there is only the sense of falling, the tremor, the confusion of the heart as it is displaced from its home in the haven of the chest, as it rises to the throat and hovers there, quivers there, expectant
It lands; but it does not yet wake the sleepers. Tomorrow they will rise, expecting the yellow of the sun and the ring of life laughing as it plays in the streets.
But the box is open now, and it is their hearts that quiver as the earth falls:
weeping, no sun but violence in the sky the wind writhing in torment tearing the clouds asunder the elements furious, a voice was heard in Ramah lamentation and bitter...
They seek the source, scour and search. But the box is fragments now, broken by its own power. They are left to quiver and to fall and to burn Whilst a solitary plane flies silent amongst the tumult of the skies.
War means different things to different people. For some it is a thing to wield and for others it can only be run from or suffered. An inalienable characteristic of war is that often those who wield it are not the ones who bear the brunt of its life-shattering power. That’s something I try to convey in the poem: the plane flies away after dropping the bomb (Pandora’s box, get it?) seemingly untouched by the devastation it causes. Likewise, those in the upper echelons of government are rarely forced to embody the consequences of the wars they start or withdraw from. This is especially the case when the conflict is a proxy war, such as the Syrian civil war. A proxy war is a war in which several actors have an interest in the outcome of the conflict and therefore use their resources to influence it, but are not directly involved.
Trump’s tactics
This unequal state of affairs cannot really be helped. What worries me is that, in some cases, the geographical and emotional distance of decision-makers from the impact of war seems to engender a flippancy on issues where flippancy is at best, insensitive, and at worst, destructive. This is strikingly apparent in Trump’s tendency to conduct foreign policy through Twitter; in December 2018 he abruptly tweeted that all US troops in Syria would be withdrawn. Social media not only extends the distance described above but is also isolating. 280 characters is like a narrow corridor; its width is the width of one person. You cannot fit your advisors and heads of department whose counsel is contrary to your wishes in the corridor. Neither can you fit your allies: the vulnerable groups who were not expecting your support to be suddenly withdrawn, or the countries looking to yours to set the example for strategy. Strategy? There’s no room for that in this corridor. Thus these unilateral decisions lead to fear, insecurity and resignations.
Due to the fact that, as mentioned above, the Syrian conflict is a proxy war, many, many actors would have been affected by the withdrawal Trump was proposing. Most importantly, the prospect of losing their strongest ally shot fear through the hearts of the Syrian Kurds who would have been left almost defenceless against Islamic State, Turkey and the Syrian government. It is generally believed that, contrary to the President’s statements, Islamic State has not yet been defeated and any withdrawal could have made Syrians once again vulnerable to the extreme terrorism that punctuated the civil war. This would have been compounded by the loss of Mercy Corps, a humanitarian organisation, who stated that without the US ground forces they would not have the security to provide assistance freely. In the poem I used the metaphor of a heart rising up in someone’s chest as they fall to evoke the unease of an impending doom you are powerless to avoid; perhaps some of the Kurdish fighters or Syrian civilians felt that way when they heard of Trump’s news. All these complexities, all this interwoven cause and effect, is in my mind like Pandora’s box falling from the sky and transforming from a concrete, knowable object into an abstract feeling of confusion-for those on the ground it is inexplicable why they should suddenly lose aid and protection and face an increasing frequency of terror attacks and…
‘Hold on a second!’, I hear you protest, ’None of this actually happened, Trump reversed his decision, remember?’ Even so, the unilateralism and instability that permeated this decision-making process remain. This is evident in the president’s subsequent declaration that he would also be withdrawing a large proportion of troops from Afghanistan. Furthermore, with the resignation of not only the US Defence Secretary but also the Pentagon chief of staff, Kevin Sweeney, things could get worse. The Pentagon had managed to steer the ship of US foreign policy amidst the turbulent waters of Trump’s tweets but the loss of these officials will have inevitably made steering much harder. Thankfully, some decisions can be taken back but once Pandora’s box is well and truly opened, while those in the plane fly away unscathed, those on the ground won’t be so lucky.
The World in Verse 