March 19th

That day the war began
I was on a radio station soundstage.
It wasn’t just me. There were a bunch of us

there to put on some kind of show.
This was a station that actually played folk music.

I don’t remember the specifics of the broadcast —
the word ‘showcase’ vaguely comes to mind.

We were ‘on air’ — I think we were about to sing
some rousing chorus finale for a cause, a worthwhile cause.

The man who’d put it all together had some ‘in’
with the station. He had some sense

of what could be said and what couldn’t.
He stepped out into the middle of the space,

stirring through us slowly until everyone had seen.
He held this piece of white posterboard.
He’d written on it in black marker, large block letters:

THE WAR HAS BEGUN!

It was late in the show. Our ragtag chorus was supposed
to sound a little raw. That was the sound we were going for,

something maybe a little world-weary, but defiant,
sounding of that hope you need, that you need to pretend.

You know, the way we always pray for peace.