I watch the late-night CNN
And in the background,
Hear the whirring of the kids' pet gerbil.

The gerbil runs the wheel.
Round and round and round and
Gets nowhere fast.
But:
Does he do it for the sheer joy?
Or does he think eventually....
He'll reach some gerbil paradise,
An Eden of his own,
Will he come at last to that perfect home
Without any weirdo strangers like me around?

They are coming home again,
The soldiers and the refugees.
They are marching into former neighborhoods,
Rebels,
Hutoo's,
Tootsies,
Kosovoans,
Cambodians,
Macedonians,
Palestinians,
Christians,
Protestants,
Catholics,
Moslems,
Jews...
People,
Humans,
Waves of people,
Not so unlike you and me ---
Men, Women, and Children.
Now,
Then,
Next week.

On foot,
On horse,
By jeep or truck,
Flown by plane,
They come home.

In the rain,
In the snow,
In the sun,
In the fog.
Perhaps,
Most often in the fog,
They come home.

Coming Home.
But the home,
Seen dimly through the fog,
Has been looted,
The home has been burned,
The women have been raped,
The men have been killed,
The crops have been ruined,
The livestock have been shot,
The well has been poisoned,
The resisters have been tortured.

So....

We must begin again.
We must rebuild.
And bide our time
Until revenge can be ours,
Until we can burn their houses,
Rape the women,
Kill the men,
Ruin the crops,
Shoot the livestock,
Poison the well,
Torture the resisters.

The CNN is over.
Even ancient re-runs of I Love Lucy
Are over.
Everyone is asleep, it seems.
Except for me.
The only sound is the hum of the test-pattern.
And the whirring of the gerbil.

The gerbil runs the wheel.
Round and round and round and
Gets nowhere fast.
But:
Does he do it for the sheer joy?
Or does he think eventually....?
He'll reach some gerbil paradise,
An Eden of his own,
Will he come at last to that perfect home
Without any weirdo strangers like me around?