Poem Post #6; Responding to: Randall Jarrell, “The Death of the Ball Turret Gunner”

From my mother’s sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters.
When I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

       This poem attempts to point out how meaningless and worthless the people are to the government and the army. This unnamed gunner (the fact that it is unnamed is an attempt to allow the character to represent everyone in this situation), was taken away from home, from its family, from its planet, to be cannon meat and put in the nightmare of war. Everything had been taken away from it to fight a fight it had nothing to do with. After the gunner was abused and mutilated by the flame of the rage of the powerful people, not even its honor was granted to it, as it was washed away with a hose like trash that is in the way. 





This is what it looks like to be in a ball turret. The gunner was squeezed in there because his comfort is meaningless to the people in power. After all, he is expected to die. This poem makes me think of the famous lyrics from System of a Down: "Why don't presidents fight the war? Why do they always send the poor?", since it feels like it is also a call out to the people creating conflict and death while keeping themselves safe and sheltered. A leader isn't supposed to boss people around, a leader goes with the people and guides them and puts itself in the front lines, and its people over itself. If this was the way war was fought, there wouldn't be so much war to begin with; because all our "leaders" care about is their own skin.