WEBVTT

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A poem written during the
sanctions in the 1990s.

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And the sanctions are
really very important

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and are forgotten,
because they contributed

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to much of the destruction
of Iraqi society.

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So people always wonder why
is what's happening happening.

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I advise them to look
back at that decade,

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and then things
will become clearer.

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And as with these kinds of
things, the most vulnerable

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are the ones who pay
the heaviest price.

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So this poem is
entitled "To An Infant."

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Do you know that
your mother's nipples

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are dry bones, that
her breasts are

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bursting with depleted uranium?

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Do you know that
the womb's window

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overlooks a confiscated land?

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Do you know that your
tomorrow has no tomorrow,

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and that your blood is
the ink of new maps?

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Do you know that your
mother is weaving

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the slowness of her
moments into an elegy,

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and she's already mourning you?

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Don't be shy, your
funeral is over.

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The tears are dry,
and everyone's gone.

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Come forward.

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It's only a short way.

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And don't be late, your grave
is looking at its watch.

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Don't be afraid.

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We'll arrange your
bones whichever way

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you want and leave your
skull like a flower on top.

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Come forward.

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Your many friends await.

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And there are more every day.

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Your ghosts will play together.

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Come on.