Thinking of my father and his generation who gave and sacrificed much ...
he slips out of penny-loafers,
shiny new coin catching his eye
tugs at woolen socks
tucking them deep into the toe
shoes dangling from two fingers
his God is quiet
so he stands as if time has ended
he and the sea suspended in its ebb, waiting to surge
gulls shriek over head
setting free the flow
and he studies their commotion squint-eyed
against the declining sun
placing his shoes gently on the sand
he rights himself
with a hand on his hip
begins
one step at a time
one foot falls front of the other
the walk into this final baptism
cleansed
khakis clinging to his calves
toes gripping the sand
he remembers the force of the tide
on the sea’s horizon
he sees God’s sails ~ as he did then
and his eye is captive
he turns
scrutinizing the shore
"it was here . . .
as far as one could see”
the huddled
the silenced and littered, assembled,
gawking into the face of humanity
lip quivers
chin drops
looking down at the sea grasses
now wrapped around his legs
he abides in the truth
"it was here"
he first prayed
but today
turning his back to the surf
he listens to the reply
of the breaking waves
Very poignant. An old soldier reliving where he landed in a foreign war.
But your image of two soldiers sharing a cigarette, their form of relaxation from the nicotine, continued a generation of those smokers whose lives were cut short by the addiction. PTSD, while downplayed, and alcoholism, were also products of the war. But they save Europe and Asia from fascism only to face any threat, communism, and now terrorism. Resolve never ends while challenges continue.
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But your image of two soldiers sharing a cigarette, their form of relaxation from the nicotine, continued a generation of those smokers whose lives were cut short by the addiction. PTSD, while downplayed, and alcoholism, were also products of the war. But they save Europe and Asia from fascism only to face any threat, communism, and now terrorism. Resolve never ends while challenges continue.
Ron
Diana…