At night your children ask in cries for you to come to them
In the space between sleep and light you pull on a baby sling, tuck in small fingers soothing who you can. Not at all times mindful what treasure you hold.
In the morning things align themselves like dishes in a row work to do, and people who have need of you, always
The space will not always be there, the night you meet your children in. Someday not so long from now, no one will wake you from your sleep and dreams.
Pictures will move behind your eyes again, noise given only to floor boards, traffic, a rotating fan.
But what is more grounded than the pavement you tread at 3 a.m.? weighty jewel against your chest.
Study war no more
Mar 18, 2011
Michael Izbicki grew up in a nondenominational church in California. A National Merit Scholarship finalist, he chose to go to the U.S. Naval Academy out of a sense of duty to his country during a time of war. At the naval academy he began to doubt whether the career to which he had committed himself could be squared with the tenets of just war doctrine. He got in trouble when he responded no to this exam question: "If given the order, would you launch a missile carrying a nuclear warhead?" After a four-year legal battle, the navy discharged him as a conscientious objector. Izbicki may have to reimburse the service for part or all of his education (New York Times, February 22).