The Backdrop of War - and "The Scream"

There always was the ripped backdrop of war.
'The Scream' silent
in every meeting around a dining table;
there in the apparent quiet of ornaments
or behind smoky piano notes
drifting the air of a violin, along the OM of a cello,
there, encircling the joy of music or as a presence
in satire, in the tone of our laughter
- how intimate is war -
in the toast we make before drinking, the process of eating,
in the privacy of bedrooms, ghosts at the foot of the bed
listen as quietly to the silence
behind the chatter and the clatter of plates and cutlery,
as when they share the breath of our dreams.
We live in hush with them, and we know it,
especially when we stand before 'The Scream'.

Then there are memorial days, festival days, birthdays,
and a visit to a cemetery; and afterwards,
screams lurk the silence of coffee houses
waiting the tables everyday
behind the turning of Newspaper pages,
in front of the words "collateral damage",
"…ethnic cleansing…"
"The bugle sounds…."
and of course, the scream is there in aura
all around the images of flags.

It is here, through one-minute silences,
here with the years it may take to travel home.

The ghosts come too, escorting without a sound,
the lifetimes it may take to find a quiet time and place                                                                               to scream for them out loud.