Strange World by Sol Funaroff

I think upon a time when men are happy
and their strange words, strange thoughts, strange faces.

They ask of me from their distant world:
Why do you shed tears?
What sad, tormented faces!

And I reply:
perhaps you will remember.
We warred for bread and destroyed the crop in the wheatfield.
We fed the hung babe with the nipples of bombs,
The word of peace was sweet on our tongues
and we warred for it.
We warred for love, and winning, won hatred.
Wars of the sword, wars of the word, wars of the heart,
the scars of war are deep and embitter our faces.
Our world lies torn and bleeding.

Remember us!
We scattered armies and triumphed that you might live.

They smile, they raise their eyebrows gently,
they do not understand, and they pity us
with their strange, happy faces.

From: Funaroff, S, ‘Strange World’ in Poetry, Vol. LII, No. III, June 1938 p. 138.

Date: 1938

By: Sol Funaroff (1911-1942)

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