peacework
by kamala parker

On September 11th, 2001, I stood in a middle school band class of over one hundred sixth-graders who were as astonished as I was to have the teacher turn on the television and exclaim that something incredible was happening in New York City.

These children, the teacher and I watched as the second plane hit the South Tower. A handful of these precious ones came to me and asked me to explain what they were seeing. “My uncle lives in New York, is he OK?” “Who is doing this?” “Are we going to die?”

Part of me answered calmly that New York is a big place, that right now no one probably knows who would fly airplanes into a building, and that we were safe here in the mountains of North Carolina away from big cities like New York. Inside, my heart cried out with the same questions, and my military instincts heightened, as I wondered why Air Force fighters had not intercepted the hijacked planes.

Days later, all of the world still in a daze, I remember vividly the sound of my mother’s voice over the telephone, “Are you going back in the Marine Corps?”
Yes, re-enlisting had already crossed my mind. I had served 11 years in the United States military, four as a Marine and seven as a Coast Guard search and rescue flight mechanic. The saying goes: “Once a Marine, always a Marine,” and I am no exception.

Women and men in the Marines are zealously convinced to die for their country without hesitation. This is NOT an exaggeration. However, my seven years of service in the Coast Guard and the last six years I had spent as a civilian helping raise stepsons had given me reason to pause.

I answered my mother, “I don’t know.”

Close friends asked me to consider carefully a decision to return to service. I immediately began researching the 9/11 event and the information that the mass media fed to the public.

As sisters, daughters and mothers, we surely all remember the call to war that occurred within just a few days after the Sept. 11th attack. Surely, we all consider the potential cost of war to any of us: our siblings, children, and parents. At the same time, I also believe that Americans never hesitate to serve when the cause is great, despite any price.

The conflict for a veteran occurs when something is happening that the public really doesn’t know or is incapable of understanding out of context. My military experience had taught me to accept authority, but to question the press and what official information the public receives.

Within days I had discovered information on the attacks that I personally interpreted as severe contradictions regarding the identity of the perpetrators and a conflict of interest in what their motivations were. Describing the details of my investigation are not as important as relaying the impact of my heartbreak.

I realized something is profoundly wrong with the war machine we now live with every day—a war machine I felt a part of.

Every American soldier or sailor raises their right hand and swears to defend the United States Constitution from enemies foreign and domestic. I had never before questioned the motives of a system much larger than myself: our government, our corporations, our national and international organizations. I didn’t pretend to grasp the implications of things I hardly understood, and I still felt compelled to keep my oath as a soldier.

I struggled with what to do as I watched us declare war on Afghanistan and quickly subdue its government. Some part of me justified this action. But when the war drums began to beat against Iraq, my earlier and ongoing research intensified both my aversion to a war promoted to the public with false information, and my commitment to defend our most precious possession, our Constitution.

Despite my sense of urgency, I felt helpless. What is one woman in a world full of socio-political complexity going to do to alert people that what they are buying may NOT be what’s being sold? As a patriot who absolutely loves my country, and is still willing to die to defend its Constitution and its citizens, I chose to enter the peace movement.

I traveled to Washington D.C. for the Jan. 18th, 2003 peace march. That day people all over the world asked our government to not go to war with Iraq. In the crowds I discovered many veterans who also opposed this call to war. They helped me to understand the mechanisms I had never closely considered.

This historic event led me to deepen my friendship with local western North Carolina veterans who were also struggling with the question of what to do as the momentum for war against the Iraqi people roared towards a feverish pitch. We all know our leaders chose to ignore the request for peace.

Mendy Knott, a local poet who has also honorably served her country as a member of the U.S. Air Force, opposed going to war under the questionable circumstances constructed by the current administration. When the war with Iraq began, she made a commitment to writing a peace poem every month for the duration of the war.

At the same time, my resolve to be part of the peace movement as a way to serve my country had not resulted in any peace for myself. The deeper I dug into the circumstances of 9/11, the angrier I became, and the more powerless I felt.

Fortunately, as a writer and poet myself, I continued to attend Mendy Knott’s monthly poetry forum, Eve’s Night Out, at the Blue Moon Bookstore in Spruce Pine. Mendy’s commitment to express her views regarding peace encouraged other women poets to write about their own concerns about war and peace. I experienced the full emotional spectrum of many different perspectives that sang out from the small wooden podium to an intimate crowd of mountain and Asheville city women.

However, I struggled with my own voice. Frustration permeated the questions I couldn’t answer, and I felt myself on a downward emotional spiral as I attempted to justify or rectify the reasons for war. Fury permeated the poems I attempted to write about the destruction and devastation caused by my country’s Department of Defense on another country’s citizens.

As a mentor to many, and close friend of mine, Mendy Knott continued to lead a way to peace through her monthly expression of her own anger and deep disappointment with the conduct of our government. Through Mendy’s efforts, something incredible happened for me. I began to see an evolution in the peace work being done by this tender poet. Her intense emotions began to give way to a realization that peace is a pursuit accomplished first on a personal level.

Through her words, I began to understand that my inner turmoil would not lead to world peace any more than a chainsaw can plant a tree.

I wept when she read the poem Peace is Personal for the first time to us. This confessional piece painstakingly painted the picture of inner conflict I had been experiencing for months. Her poem mirrored my disagreement with others over the war, my anger over my own sense of powerlessness, and my own inner warfare. This poem became a roadmap for me to follow. Simple words painted the picture of a profound revelation: No matter our circumstances, if war is happening on a global scale or with a family member or a boss, peace starts on the inside with a personal commitment to finding a different way to live, a peaceful way to live.

According to Mendy’s poem, the only help we can expect is from a higher power (even if we’re not sure what that entity’s name is.) Mendy’s words literally rescued me. I would, for the first time in many months, find my voice to write about my own dreams, hopes and fears.

This personal transformation resulted in a poignant poem titled Peace Logic (read it on page 33), a poem reflecting the “what if” of war and peace. After reading it at Eve’s Night Out, Mendy invited me to participate in a peace project she had initiated with her monthly poems. Peace Logic is now part of a spoken word compact disc, Peacework: Poems in Wartime. This audio recording of Mendy’s peace poem collection, co-produced by G. Leigh Wilkerson, Knott and the Herwords writing group of Asheville, depicts the transformation many patriots have experienced during the last four years we’ve been at war.

The poems inspire and encourage as they affirm the process of acknowledging one’s inner conflicts and struggle for peace. During the recording session at a rural studio in Marion, the sound technician, an older country gentleman said, “She knows what she’s talking about, doesn’t she?”
“Yes, she certainly does,” I answered, and 'Thank God!' I thought to myself.
Today, I still swing sometimes into those emotional extremes of anger or disappointment with the state of our huge neighborhood Earth. Peacework on my compact disc player reminds me that those swings are OK, I’m human; Peace is a journey not a location. I listen, and I write my own peace.

Everyday I thank the Higher Power that Mendy’s words are part of my life. I am grateful I found my own voice, and even more thankful that I found my own self-forgiveness. I may be powerless to act on a global level, but Mendy Knott demonstrated that we are never powerless to do what we can do. Though Mendy has recently relocated to Arkansas to be closer to her family, the women of Eve’s Night Out continue to produce a peace poem every month.

I have committed to holding on to my own happiness as I endeavor to empathize with all people experiencing the chaos of war. I also support my brothers and sisters serving in the military, and pray they come home soon. I encourage every woman to embark on her own journey towards peace. I hope each one will realize that the peace we are all searching for may be a peace we can only find within.

Kamala Parker, now a resident of east Asheville, traveled to Asia and Europe while serving in the U.S. Military. She is currently a senior at UNCA finishing a Literature and Language degree. She writes poetry and screenplays while making a living as a Personal Fitness Trainer.
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