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Back and forth
once with the wheels
and dead in the
hospital.
Oh but Rachel,
a martyr can't keep
fighting,
no matter how much it
means.
And Eryk, everyone,
if we could have been standing beside
her
we would not be so bloody
today.
----- Original Message -----
Sent: Monday, March 17, 2003 9:22
AM
Subject: [X] Rachel Corrie
I don't know
this world.
I don't know
what
blood is
when it comes
out of my mouth.
Maybe a tooth
is
loose when
I was seven, or
I bit my tongue.
You did too,
right? I
mean,
you did, right?
I wish I always knew
you were
beautiful
before that crimson
came from your lips
and the unknown
tractor
kept going by- what
really happens
to all of them, and
we
all pretend
we have the choice
to do nothing,
I have no
choice
and still, I do nothing.
Imagine me
in nazi
germany-
no different.
How disappointing.
I could sit
around
and talk about it
how Auschwitz
was a bad idea
how much I
wanted
Hitler to just leave
and I would write
about the
beauty
that fell under
his sky- poets
are cowards, and
cowards
are nazis.
Can I even pretend
to use these metaphors:
Standing
up against
the onslaught, getting
crushed by all this
weight? What
the hell
do I know about weight?
I am really nothing
after all;
similes,
fictions, all these lies-
that I am a person
things matter
to,
that I am beyond
what people are,
that I care; mostly-
that I
could ever
know what it was
to care as much.
You are change,
and I am here
in your wake-
I don't know
how to be
what you
are.
And now
I am done
pretending;
and sick
for ever
even
daring
to believe it.
-e.
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