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Open Poetry #29
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Cobwebs On A Silent Gun
| Open Poetry #29 |
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Cobwebs On A Silent Gun |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows 
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When my father died, there was a small parade, no charade just a few old soldiers, his widow, children grandkids great grandkids, even one double great kid on the way, a drummer, bugler, color guard and me watching me watching them watching him, very formal, taps and guns. The shots made the babies cry; good for them, maybe one day they won't die shattered in a pool of blood; folded flag my mamma later shoved in a drawer saying, "What the hell is this thing for?" to no one in particular. She worried more about who was going to save the last scoop of ice cream for her now. I watched my own kids at the grave they'd loved that hard old man, years later now they still talk about him, and as best as I could tell he'd loved them as well. It crossed my mind, right there in the hot desert sun, I could never be the one to tell them about the wars I've fought, about the private pathways of the silent gun, the battles that aren't ever taught in school, the back stories designed to fool the honest mind, the history that doesn't keep names, the grown up games in which sometimes even the winners don't survive and the score cards never match, where funerals carry coffins weighted down with concrete blocks, where the soul survives just to remind the walking dead. Unlike the old man, I had moved among the nonexistent warriors of a shadow world, where honor and shame became confused, and where finally I refused to be a mindless expendable device used by grown up children playing endless ‘what if' games, and so I've sworn on my own soul that my kids should never know why I don't cry at funerals, why I laugh at politicians, why I only sit where I can see the door; my habits aren't strange to them, at least they don't ask any more. They were moved by the pomp that day, circumstances they won't see when I die, but that day they stared wide-eyed, even impressed to see the soldiers all dressed up with weapons, medals, and the rest of all the trappings of a hero's send off at his resting place, and he really was a hero; I explained to them later how once he had attacked a submarine with nothing but a pistol, a wooden ship and a pan of fudge, and sent the Nazis running for the deep sea; he lost the ship, but saved the fudge, and chased the Hun away, so in his mind it hadn't been in vain, though it had always seemed to me that sub driver must have thought the old man was insane and so had just ran away from a nut case, but he was decorated none the less and of course there was more he did and sometimes could talk about; his was after all a public war. ©2003 by icebox |
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| © Copyright 2003 icebox - All Rights Reserved | |||
Cpat Hair
since 2001-06-05
Posts 11793 |
forgive me... It is alone in hell each of us walks knowing there is no absolute right and that dead is just dead while around us it would seem the jesters of some court filled with self serving liars all wearing crowns or thumping a book Tell us it is good!! There must be RIGHT but have never trod the floor looking to see a small pin armed or a mans leftovers There are no heroes only men and women who were told to do and did.... to live with it everymore |
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icebox Member Elite
since 2003-05-03
Posts 4383in the shadows |
Yes. |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Hug! |
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suthern
since 1999-07-29
Posts 20723Louisiana |
his was after all a public war. And one where they came home to open arms, not closed minds. Excellent write! |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart |
I started, I truly did, to pull this line, then that line... but why take up space? Do know, I understand his thoughts, and yours... and thus, what we thought was a generational gap was merely that they taught us so well to think for ourselves... and when I acknowledge that... it makes me very proud to know the men and women that served, and those that serve now... because no one should walk in, blindly. |
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Pilgrimage Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945Texas, USA |
This is affecting. Soldiers died and widows cried but I kept all my hurt inside. The gates of hell gape open wide. Nan (Pilgrim variety) |
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Aenimal Member Rara Avis
since 2002-11-18
Posts 7350the ass-end of space |
speechless...although...I see a Cpat/Icebox duet is a definite necessity |
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