The Prelude to War

There is political complexity to this, I'm sure.
But impressions stand stolidly in the face
of observation. He wanted his invasion
even as he was stealing the presidency in Florida
and as he was climbing ground zero under a sky
still crying soot and ash. Millions could see it.
Citizens of the world's greatest cities poured into
their streets and they flooded like over-burdened
rivers after torrential rains. There was hope that all
the faces and voices rising from the flood might
convince America there is legitimacy in reason
and sound evidence, not pre-emption. Yet,
the bastards veiled Picasso's Guernica,
covering the symbols of war's brutality. Where
is the screeching woman who is half there?
Her arms stretch across the fiery sky, spanning
the East and West, and she makes her fingers
fly like hooks clawing the rungs of heaven
or the hems of God's holy habiliments. Hidden
is her terrible expression invoking deliverance.
But there will be no God for her in these days.
And this is why they hid from sight the horse,
possibly representing the Apocolypse, racking its
neck, widening its eyes, and spreading its mouth
so wide from screams it must have chewed down
the burning sun. So great is the pain
and this revelation of war.