I didn’t mean to cause so much trouble
coming into the world; there was already
trouble enough, what with the Arizona
just settling itself into reddened water, and
Anne Frank, there in the dark Amsterdam night,
wearing her yellow star. 

It was a hard time, but I came anyway.
To hear my mother tell it, you’d think
the whole bloody war was being waged
right there in her blessed uterus; she always said
I took forever getting here,
and it hurt like hell. 

Maybe because I was born in war time,
maybe because I felt bad about causing Mama
all that trouble, I’ve spent a lot of my life
seeking peace, which sometimes meant
making peace, or—the hardest—
keeping peace—and yet 

here I am, seeing
all these decades,
all these wars, 

wondering sometimes
about intention, about
elusion….