Who are the terrorists, Mr. President?

A poem by Hilding Lindquist
Copyright 2005
Reproduction and distribution is permitted with attribution.

I have been enlisted
by my President
to stay the course
to fight the terrorists
until they are gone.

I will, Mr. President, but
the questions are endless
in my mind.

Who are the terrorists, Mr. President?
and do they have roots?
or is theirs a virgin birth?
or manna from heaven?
God, their source.

Are they the ones
who blew up the trains and the bus
in London?
Are they the ones
who strap explosives to their bodies
and blow themselves up
in Iraq
and Israel?
Are they the ones
who flew the planes into
the World Trade Center
and the Pentagon
and the field in Pennsylvania?
Are they the ones
who shot the seven thousand Muslims
in Srebrenica?
Are they the ones
who slaughtered the Palestinians
in Chatilla and Sabra?

Do they have roots
in the Trail of Tears
of the Cherokee Nation?
Do they have roots
in the fight against Franco
in Spain?
Do they have roots
in the dropping of the bomb
on Hiroshima and Nagasaki?
Do they have roots in Fallujah?

The questions are endless
in my mind.

Who are the terrorists, Mr. President?
and do they have roots?
or is theirs a virgin birth
or manna from heaven?
God, their source.

So I may stay the course
and know when they are gone,
the terrorists and their roots.