It's coming, really coming, and we all need a bit more than just news to make it through. Spirit. Perspective. Faith. Reminders of humanity, and horror, and the shape of true victory.

We're on it. Today's the start of a semi-regular feature: the first, and not the last.

Yesterday, in response to Poets Against the War, the Wall Street Journal proclaimed Feb. 12th "A Day of Poetry for the War" and asked readers to submit pro-American, pro-freedom, anti-Saddam, anti-idiotarian poems. My daily contribution can be found right here.

I looked their winners over yesterday; you'd think more rappers would read the Wall Street Journal, if only to visit their money. People who could bring some serious attitude and kickin' rhymes to a party jonesing for it. No dice.

Still, this is America in the 21st century. The top rapper is white. The top golfer is black. Deal with it. Will Warren wasn't there, and neither was Dr. Dre - but some of these poets got game. We'll start with Dennis Pitz' "Iraq Today":

Righteous war is chewed on by so many.
You look at the despot and know he has to go,
but his face still gloats at you as if to say, come on over.
And you wonder
if taking him out is exactly what he's after.
And you waver . . .

What must it be like?
He thought he could resist, even after the current stuttered through him.
He was sure he had the strength to eat the pain,
as his nails were pulled from his fingers like splinters.
He eyed the bucket and wondered about drowning in no more than a sink full of water;
he was certain he could do it.
It was then they drug in his daughter, and his resolve fled from him.
In racking sobs he told them everything he thought they wanted -- and more.
They drowned him anyway, right there in the cell while the girl watched.
Then, as they laughed, they did her too.

The war talk on the TV drones on.
Your child is saying
hey daddy! this
and hey daddy! that,
You listen, and love, and ask her to turn up the thermostat.
It's getting cold.