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Volume 1 Issue 3 September 2003 LINK TO TEXT ONLY VERSION Robert Blair Kaiser: A Letter from the Editor POETRY  Henry Braun: Mother Of All Bombs R.W. French: A Day in March H.R. Stoneback: God's Trout: Fisher King & Delta Force Recon the Upper Tigris ROME DIARY  Robert Blair Kaiser: Latest Chapter Rome Diary Index VATICAN II  Australian Broadcasting Company: Radio Discussion on Vatican II   Kelly Burke: Blessed are the Once Married   Bill Burrows: The Erosion of Catholic Culture   José Comblin: Changes in the Latin American Church During the Pontificate of John Paul II   John J. Deeney: Vatican II: Before, During, and After — Some Personal Anecdotal Reflections   Robert Blair Kaiser: Notes Toward An Essay on Vatican II   Virginia Saldanha: Vatican II Brought Wholeness to Life   Ingrid Shafer: The Vision of Vatican II   Jon Sobrino, SJ: A New Council (English) Un Nuevo Concilio (Español)   Leonard Swidler: A Catholic Constitution for the Catholic Church   WOMEN Sr. Maria José Arana, RSCJ: To Ransom the Feminine in order to Re-animate the Earth (English) Rescatar Lo Femenino Para Re-Animar La Tierra (Español)

God's Trout: Fisher King & Delta Force Recon the Upper Tigris (Spring 2003)    At the secret source of the most ancient river    where the very Tree of Life shadowed Eden:    there, on the upper Tigris, the mysterious trout —    alabalik — lurks among unfished rapids    and riffles where Kurds contend with Turks.    Mines bloom on the banks of Baghdad-bound waters.    Far downstream, Iraqi troops fire thousands    of rounds into the river. They say a pilot    has descended from the sky, hides in the river:    a fanatic crowd cheers as they shoot the water,    set the riverbank reeds on fire — in deep midstream,    trout hold steady, then ascend toward Eden.    Upstream at midnight Delta Force regroups beneath    the appointed bridge: twelve men (who do not exist,    it is said) gather in susurrous darkness,    greet one another with handsigns and whispers,    exchange the secrets of reconnaissance,    then wait, more certain than the wide water's silence.    Another man joins them sometime towards dawn:    tall, bearded, in local dress — austere, humorous,    he says he has been fishing with grubs and worms.    He says there is a rare trout in these waters —    alabalik — it could be translated "God's Trout."    He once caught one, he says, in the Garden.    Since he works for the CIA, he does not explain    his more cryptic remarks, though he does note    that "God's Trout" defies mere science, should not exist here,    by evolutionary laws. "Go ask Noah,"    he says and then they freeze at the motion    downstream; through nightvision goggles they see the glow    of a boy fishing: they watch him catch big trout    and release them with some gesture of blessing.    At first light, the boy climbs the bank with one large fish    and vanishes to the south. Overhead, a missile    soars towards Kirkuk. Then they hear singing: — alert    under the bridge, they watch dozens of men, women, children    walking barefoot on the rivertrail, barefoot and singing,    walking north. When the Force comes up from the river,    standing and stretching in the warm sun, they do not look    like CIA, Special Ops, Delta Force: they look local,    and hungry. Heading south to the next village they have    ascertained to be secure, they relax, tell jokes,    talk about fishing, how war is good for trout — "take    certain Croatian streams," one says, "unfished for years    due to riverside mines — the trout are yours for the tickling."    The CIA man says he wants to fish for the red-speckled    alabalik, he must get back to the Garden.    The smoke of cooking-fires rises from the village    as they approach, salute those who know them,    sit down by the river where food is brought to them.    The trout, charred over hot ashes, taste like God's Trout,    they say, laughing. The village elder explains    that the people who just passed to the north    are Assyrian Christians on yearly pilgrimage    to the Garden of Eden, to drink the source    of the Tigris. "The others moving along the river    are fleeing the Siege of Baghdad." He makes a sign    with his hand and more perfectly-cooked trout are brought.    Many people from the village are eating    by the morning river where no one is fishing.    The village chief and elders exchange intelligence    with their visitors as they eat. Planes pass far    overhead. "You will need luck in Kirkuk,"    the elder says, putting something in the leader's    pocket. At the fire, the Force sees the boy who came up    from the river with one fish. He is cooking many               trout, many men with the boy, many fish cooking.               The Force moves down the river. Now they say nothing.               Men who own the night do not name who owns the sky.    H.R. Stoneback    March 29, 2003 H.R. Stoneback is Professor of English at SUNY-New Paltz. A widely published poet and scholar, his recent books include Singing the Springs & Other Poems (Portals Press) and Cafe Millennium & Other Poems (Portals). Once upon a time, he was both a basketball player and a Marine.

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