All that's Left

All that's Left

    in the world

—whether in Cuba, Venezuela, Bolivia

as well as in China, Japan, the United States,

Europe, the Middle East, Africa—

all of them cannot,

     despite their resistance,

     despite their refusal,

stop this march of death

because they,

as well as all that's Right

in the world,

     despite their refusal,

     despite their resistance,

already are counted among those

     in this last parade.

Communists and progressives,

nazis, fascists and reactionaries,

zionists and anarchists of every stripe—

none are excluded, none can evade the march.

This one's not coming

with hammer and sickles or swastikas

or flags of any land.

This one's the march

all wars surrender to.

But when?! comes the unanimous cry.

When will it really happen?

If death is peace,

when can I truly die?

You will never know, and yet you do,

because you may already have,

and this life is your way

of paying homage to the power

that loves you enough

to have taken your life away

and left you with the taste of immortality on your lips.

Nothing mystical: no Christ,

Allah, Jahweh or Buddha in the wings.

Even lying on your back you're marching.

This is not a cynical or pessimist

or nihilist poem. Join death

to your life and you will live

as if there were no drum to march to.

There is no march at all.

You're done. All will be well for all.

Jack Hirschman

(Picture: Dance of Death, Adriaen Pietersz van de Venne)