Taraday taraday -- The baby sings,
prattling back to the television
as she plays on the floor.
If her parents were here they’d be appalled
at the exposure to such inappropriate programming,
but we who are fearful of a war and addicted to the news
keep watching the commentators and waiting
for some new tragedy.
Then in the middle of reports from the field,
a young woman in her ninth month
tells of the bullets that have invaded her home
whistling past the children playing on the floor.
Suddenly I remember the anchorman
from the Gulf War, telling of his child
just beginning to pick up the sounds around her.
Her first words, he said, were sayaret mufafa,
Arabic for a mined automobile --
such a pleasant sounding phrase.