Servant of the Reckoner

“Never think war, no matter how necessary, no matter how justified, is not a crime.”
Ernest Hemingway

I will see you tonight
With pills and cheap wine.
You are the burning
My lasting impression, the definition
You will stare at me from the inside of a darkened closet.
So I shut the door.
My eyes water and my mind races with radio chatter
Call signs and confusion.
So I have to turn on the humidifier.
It just makes noise now.
The air is still dry and there is dust on everything.
What should I call you? When last we met I did not ask
I will call you Abdul Haasib -- “Servant of the Reckoner”
And there will be a reckoning for what we have done.
You are too young to hate me
Your brother is not.
There is a stink in my nostrils that is unfamiliar to me.
I laugh at you Abdul Hassib, because you are too small to carry that shovel.
Big brother glares at me and hurries you along.
It’s so hot here and everything is on fire and the women won’t stop crying.
Noisy, hot, dusty fuckin country.
Come here Abdul Haasib, I have candy for you.
I have come from America to bring you candy and school supplies and to trade you for your heart and your mind.
“Shukran”
“Afwan”
It’s cheap candy.
Somewhere my son is running barefoot in the grass and this makes me smile.
I have candy for your brother but he refuses me.
“Fuck you then”
I have a whole bag.
Its hard candy because the chocolate melts.
Get back to your duty Abdul Haasib because your brother has a heavy load.
The trash bag slung over his shoulder is burdensome.
Remember my face,
Because we all look the same.
I scan the rooftops for a glint.
But it’s so hard to pay attention all the time.
That is probably why I did not notice.
Abdul Haasib if I had noticed I would not have laughed at you, or smiled, or given you candy.
I would not have thought of my son running barefoot in the grass.
I would not have thought of water, and leaves, and the wind, and cows, and red barns, and mountains, and skyscrapers.
I would not have arrogantly labeled this “an Arab problem” and thanked God “for America.”
Your chores are hard and your brother’s load is heavy.
I would guess you are four or five but nine or ten now.
And I wonder if I am your burning as you are mine.
For hatred or fascination.
If I was the moment your life changed,
Or was I commonplace.
Were you battle hardened?
Were you indifferent?
Was the burning hatred and the hopelessness,
Not your brother at all, but your future.
Someone had to carry the bag.
And you the shovel.
And now The Reckoner curses me,
Always with you.
So I have to shut the door.
These women swarm and wail like great black vultures.
or angels.
A shapeless sorrowful mass.
And now I am Lucid! See blind Paul! And know that I am Vengeance and Wraith and Sorrow and Murder and a Liar and that all of this you ran for will be your Great Undoing! See this! And let it follow you the rest of your days!
Abdul Haasib, you are the REAPER!
Amidst the mess you collect the dead with a shovel,
And a hefty bag.
Because in Baghdad, a scythe won’t do…..
I will see you tonight Abdul Haasib,
Your brother stares at me from over your right shoulder.
Knee deep in the pieces.
Now that I am alone, there is no one to block my view, so let’s lie here and look at one another all night Abdul Haasib…and we will remember the dead.
What will they look like on the Day of Resurrection Abdul Haasib?
You and your brother have mixed them all up,
And will they remember that I smiled and gave you candy,
And laughed at your labor and thought of home.
Abdul Haasib, you should know…
That the peace I arrogantly thought I would return too
Was carried away in your hefty bag
And I will never get home... and that the horrible misfortune
That you have suffered will claw at my chest the rest of my life.
And when you take a step from my closet door to take me with you
I will only say that I am sorry---for being a witness to your plight---and nothing more.

"Certainly there is no hunting like the hunting of man and those who have hunted armed men long enough and liked it, never really care for anything else thereafter. You will meet them doing various things with resolve, but their interest rarely holds because after the other thing ordinary life is as flat as the taste of wine when the taste buds have been burned off your tongue." (from 'On the Blue Water' in Esquire, April 1936)

the haunt.

But I will go on. I will go to do human things. I will drive a car, I will consider mountain biking and pretend I am extreme. I will go outside and pretend it is lovely out. I will go to college and pretend it matters. I will remember what is beautiful, and then comment on it and pretend that it is true. Lets meet up and talk for awhile. I will smile and nod so that you think I am listening.
I am the first to arrive at this funeral, you see? No-----You cannot watch this. When I come back I will do human things to be just like you! I will shop and comment on world events. We should throw a party so that nobody gets suspicious of our true nature. Lets search together! We will find the answers to why it all happened and when we cannot lets make some up. And think of a joke to keep them entertained. That is all they want is to be entertained. Its what humans do! So when they ask you about it, tell them something simple..tell them it was life changing…tell them it was anything….but what it was….Trust me friend they do not want to hear the truth, they want to be entertained. So write them poems and songs and start a club so that we can all heal together.
I will worry about my health, I will pick up a habit, I will talk about goals, I will take pictures of my kids, I will act like you have something important to say to me, I will act like I care about your problems. I will let you believe I take you seriously, we should save the world, we should recycle, we should use hand sanitizer. I should invest. I should walk a dog and plant a tree and pretend I care about Africa.
We should make love! We should make love and I will tell you it was amazing. I will do all the things that humans do and you will believe it. You will believe it because you want to believe it, because if you did not you would have to confront it and that is not our way. Best to bury it. I will bury it and pretend that I am human.
But I am not human, we are not human, they are not human. You see, there was a funeral . He left and could not find his way back and so we are the living dead among you. I am the ghost. I am the haunt, the vision, the mystic, the marvel.
I am your burden.
The ghost.
I will drift among you but you will not see me.
I will scream at the top of my lungs until you hear a whisper.
I will creep among the hallways all night.
I am nocturnal.
I am the ghost, you see? Can you watch me float here? Can you see me long for what you have? Can you see me hate you?
We are the dead among you.
I am the great pretender.
The only survivor in a fantastic land.
I am the result of your flag waving patriotism, I am the result of your quick solution, your billion yellow ribbon magnets. I am your shame, your reckoning, your hasty mistake, I am your lie you chose to believe when you sent me on my way. I hate your face and your thanks and your handshake and your gratitude and your slogans. I hate your parades your fireworks your antiqued American flag you have hanging on the front porch. I will spit venom. I will hate you and haunt you and blame you the rest of my days.
And no one hears us.
There was a funeral, a match was struck
And all of it was just a whisper.