»
Archives
»
Open Poetry #32
»
No Greater Gift
| Open Poetry #32 |
|
No Greater Gift |
|
|
Kevo Member
since 2004-06-02
Posts 466Navarro County, Texas, USA 
|
No Greater Gift Silver light silhouettes, casting his shadow upon the mirrored wall behind him. There he sits, pondering his life, and her’s, and their child’s. He sits, still and silent, watching her sleep. He waits, hoping she’ll awake on her own. Wanting her to say I love you one last time. Hoping he’ll come back to her someday. Dressed he walks the quiet hall as the clock ticks away at fate. There he stands over his young and only son, Heir to a young father’s love, and unknowing of this intrepid time that beckons his only father so far away. He stays there wishing that obstinant clock would stop its Defiant and rushed ticking while staring down into the crib and studying this precious child’s face, his button nose, his tiny fingers, his soft eyelids hiding curious, unknowing eyes. How sweet the moments have been to look at him to hold him, to hug him, to kiss him, to love him, and to look upon him in joyous disbelief while he peered back in fierce dependence. He waits, hoping this child will awake on his own. Wanting him to say I love you one last time without saying anything. Hoping he’ll come back to his only boy someday. Softly, he pulls the door closed, and makes his way past the pictures hanging somberly on their hooks. He stops for a moment offering a silent goodbye. “Grandma. Grandpa. Mom and Dad. Little Brother. Nagging sisters. My son, look at him smile. My wife, I love you,” whispered in the hall as he touched the face in the simple frame. He studies the pictures one last time, Just in case, As the clock ticked away in defiance; Seemingly faster now. He burned the images into his resigned mind peacefully, continuing towards the door, focused on resolve, of making a difference today. No tears this early morning. The shadows canvas the pictured walls, but not the purposed heart of this young man walking away. He stops by the door, and sits on the couch like so many mornings before. This time he takes his place on his wife’s side; Somehow taking in one more piece of her. He pulls his boots on, and quietly ties the long black laces. “Better to double-tie.” He stands again, ever sure-footed and ready. Before he leaves he tucks pictures of his precious bride, and cherished son deep into the well of an empty pocket. He grabs the faded bag waiting paitiently by destiny’s door. “It seems heavier this morning”, but seabags get that way so early in the morning. Not to worry, his shoulders carry more than that. Before shutting the door He peers back down the hall. Noone there. “Goodbye” carried on the whisper of this lonely Marine as he pulls the door shut behind him. Upon the flightline he stands, away from his buddies in silence, studying the pictures he had stuffed in his pocket. The voices command, “Lets Go! Let’s Go! Get on your feet! Today’s your day! Let’s give ‘em Hell, boys!” “Oorah!” echoes the length of this flightline heavy with the weight of burdened warriors. He tucks the pictures away with a kiss for each. His baggage “checked”. He dons his helmet. He slings his rifle. The tears do not come. He looks back, and imagines those loved left in slumber waving goodbyes …and little flags, while blowing kiss after kiss to him and only him. He smiles. No regrets. No reservations. And now, she stands, with her son, Over him. She never got to say goodbye. This blonde haired boy will never know him. And she waits, hoping he’ll awake on his own one last time. Wanting him to say I love you one last time. Hoping that he’ll come back to her one last time. But, knowing that he never will. She makes her way down darkened hall, and stops to take in the pictures hanging somberly upon their hooks. “Grandma. Grandpa. Mom and Dad. Little brothers. Nagging sister. My son, look at him smile. My husband, I love you,” Whispered in the hall as she touched the face in the simple frame. There the shadowbox hangs The stripes. The medals. The flag. No red. Just a field of blue, peppered with stars, deftly folded in it’s tiny triangle. Three brass casings sit silently, In honor of this husband, this brother, this son, this father. A Gift from a grateful nation. This wall in the hall, a gift from a grateful and adoring wife. Her gift to him. All she could give. She stands over the crib, watching him sleep, studying the softness of his eyelids hiding eyes that do not understand. Touching his tiny little fingers Listening to his sweet breathing in the silence and still of night. She closes his door, and finishes the lonely walk to the room at the end of the hall. Silver light silhouettes her, casting her shadow upon the mirrored wall behind her. There she sits, pondering her life, his life, and the precious life of her son who will never really know his father. Heavy heart. Lamenting soul. Broken spirit. Tears highlighted by silver light. She sits alone. Waiting. Wishing she would have awoken on her own. Whispering I love you one last time in the darkness of a lonely room. Tears flowed heavily. Yet, no regrets. No greater gift could he have given than this. And someday, A boy will know his father, He will call him a hero. He will call him Daddy. Copyright, Kevin V. Reese, 2004 |
||
| © Copyright 2004 Kevin Reese - All Rights Reserved | |||
|
Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Kevo Such a poignant story...very well done! |
||
|
iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Kevin -- are you currently serving in the Marines? Just curious. This was an extraordinary piece of work -- your writing skills are superb.  There is no greater gift...amen. |
||
|
ThisDiamond Member Rara Avis
since 2002-02-22
Posts 9353Michigan, USA |
The power to bring tears is an amazing and precious gift. Thus is this treasure you have written. I hope you will share it further and wider than ever before. TD |
||
|
Kevo Member
since 2004-06-02
Posts 466Navarro County, Texas, USA |
No. Once a Marine, always a Marine. I served from 1988 to 1996, 8 years. I left in 1996 as a Sergeant. I had met my wife and knew that if I stayed I would be overseas again. I elected to stay with her. Now, I see her and my kids everyday...almost anyway. I don't regret leaving but struggle a lot with the idea of returning to the ranks and protecting. I left with a Honorable Discharge and RE-1A reenlistment code (simply put - they still would be glad to have me back right now). My wife asked me if I went back in or if I was still in, would I be in Iraq. I replied, that I would have been there along time ago. The Marine Corps is a brotherhood few understand unless they have served. I still, and will continue, to look upon them as my brethren, my brothers and sisters in arms. My heroes. I am in solidarity with them always no matter the cause. Through, my experiences, however, I know what it's like to call home, already on the other side of the globe, and tell my mother, "I have to go. I can't tell you where I'm going. I don't know when I'll be back. I love you." It takes quite a bit of character and sacrifice to do that. That is why I hold them in such high regard. They do it without question, without failure, with complete disregard for themselves at a moments notice. Each one with no regrets. I understand them. I appreciate them. I love them all. That is my family cloaked in blood, sweat, and camouflage. That is my family that have tendered liberty since before the days of our Independence. Thank a veteran today. Sorry for the long reply. Sometimes I get carried away. This is one of my two largest inspirations for writing. The other is my wife. Respectfully, Kevin |
||
|
Sadelite Member Elite
since 2003-10-11
Posts 2519 |
Kevo, This just cleaned me out of emotion and left me numb! Extraordinary writing! (You had remarked about not being able to write the short ones--no need to when you can carry the reader on a memorable journey like this! However, with your skill, I can well imagine you'd be able to writ anyway/anything you like!) Sadelite |
||
|
iliana Member Patricius
since 2003-12-05
Posts 13434USA |
Kevin, my first husband (whom I was married to for nine years) was a Marine. We lived on Oslow Beach in NC or in that general area (we moved in a bit closer to the airfield at one point). I know Marines well and appreciate the brotherhood that exists. Even though my ex-husband's whereabouts are unknown, I am still in touch with one of those brothers who happens to post on this site....but I will never give away who that might be. You'll have to figure that out for yourself. The other close friend I knew from those years was my brother-in-law, John, who died from cancer last summer. I wrote a poem for him which is somewhere in #32 Main Forum. Thank you for your pennings. They are so meaningful. |
||
Magnus
since 2001-10-10
Posts 14135South Carolina, USA |
Yes Kevin, we are of the same mold, same conviction...same shared feelings that only a warrior would know or understand...those moments, silent moments of unsaid goodbyes, of worries and wonderings, of sadness and sanity...so much more...I know it all to well, USN retired...25 plus years...and a lot of goodbyes...far too many... Thank you for this poem, and yes, it brought many tears to my eyes... Never stop living the moments on the pages that others might see and feel what we, they sacrifice that our liberty might be kept within a nation's arms...protected for all time. |
||
|
Honeybunch Member Rara Avis
since 2001-12-29
Posts 7115South Africa |
I deeply moving piece of writing - thank you for the insight. |
||
|
|
⇧ top of page ⇧ |
|
| All times are ET (US). All dates are in Year-Month-Day format. | ||
