Rites

Friends know early,

this thread so fine,

tensile power beyond strength.

Some played in cornfields,

flipper-crutch at the ready.

Some wandered Harlem's alleys and dumpsters

hoping another day's scavenge would suffice,

Lord and one’s knife willing.

Friendship in waiting…

Naked clad, we lined up arm’s length,

between us as the sergeant barked,

our packages passing full inspection,

our coughs without problems.

This day, our eyes search with compassion and pity,

friendship once khakied and spit-shined,

now but mud-caked Kevlar protected warriors.

Holding on together…

Yet roadside hatred and brutality await a footstep,

ready to destroy those memories of cornfields past,

of garbage once precious,

of friendship once distant.

Determined…

We know first may be last,

these rites of preparation,

even as we swallow our fear

and challenge the embrace of eternity.