It wasn't mine; Yet I felt the last of its warmth turn cold- I was there when the seasons failed to rebirth- and the air lay stilled; and time had been stolen away; in a single fainted breath- When the arts of living and life, ran together in an outcry of lost words- It left me wrapped in a blanket thick; smothered by numbness of frozen pain
It wasn't mine; Yet I tasted the vile odor of its silk crimson lace- It rained into my heart; Flooding my soul with the grief it promised- and the darkness it embraced and reigned over; and through- It wasn't mine; Yet I could see where I had lost the power of control- It filled my eyes and my palms with the tainted oils of incompleteness- making urgent, seem much less likely to ever be again
It wasn't mine; Yet it made me review all facets; either small or large, of all the accomplishments I'd ever claimed- then let me know; I had not one that would compare- It wasn't mine; This gift of truth, honor, compassion, bravery; No, it wasn't mine until he had given it to me- Life; His life- And so I stood motionless until the last car had passed- and then I cried for I knew another soldier had faced his last and final battle
This is exactl how I have always felt when someone died ar walked out of my life. Life is such a journey and gives us plenty to write about. Very nice read and relative.
This poem just reaches into the chambers of the heart and rips out hunks before it finally settles into the soul. I am rendered (nearly) speachless as I feel the emotions of sadness, emptiness, pride, gratituds and humility. I am overwhelmed that there are those who so love and believe in freedom that they are willing to face the threat, and sometimes the reality, of death so that we can live in this great land of liberty. Thank you, Lisa, once again you have touched my heart and have drawn my spirit to walk along your same path and become one with those who have perished. Feel better soon, Lisa, I am keeping you in my prayers.
Take care,
Sherry
You haven't lost the ability to make us think...cry...and force us to confront the sacrifices made in freedom's name. Good on you--never let us forget. An outstanding, powerfully poignant reminder--well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
I concur with Jerry as well--you need to get this to a publisher toot-suite!
So powerful Lisa that it pulls the heart strings like they are hooked to a tow truck. The sad truth you present is all too often blind to the eyesight of the masses and only a few careing people recognize and feel the pain of a soldiers funeral.
Felix
Reviewed by Jerry Bolton (Reader)
Reviewed on February 20, 2006
Hell, Lisa, a LOT of your stuff needs to be published. This is yet one more that rips at the very sould of the reader.
Mary Angela Nangini's poems celebrate the richness of life and love. From the city to cottage-country and the roads in between, Nangini explores the changing seasons of her varied region. (This book will soon be reprinted in hard cover.)
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Take care,
Sherry
You need to have this poem published; in fact, ALL of your poems! You are great at what you do!
Hope you are feeling better; you are in my prayers, sweetie!
(((Gentle Hugs))) and much love, your friend in Burleson, Karen Lynn. :D
I'm glad you're back; I've missed you. Hope you're feeling stronger.
You haven't lost the ability to make us think...cry...and force us to confront the sacrifices made in freedom's name. Good on you--never let us forget. An outstanding, powerfully poignant reminder--well done!
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.
I concur with Jerry as well--you need to get this to a publisher toot-suite!
Birgit and Roger
Felix
Love Tinka
This one is so beautifully composed it needs to be published!
Splendid work!
Eileen