Archive
05/31/10 - (2)
War
I
A husband, a father, can go far, but only so far, Before his stoical resolve, his inordinate pride, deserts him And he ends up spending the rest of his life Blaming his ex-wife and two children For begrudging, scorning, disdaining, reviling him, With merciless rancor, anger beyond hatred, For misdeeds of the heart, evil transgressions of the soul They yet accuse him of having inflicted on them, As if they were innocent victims, Statistics of a rapacious one-man invasion, Absolved of his conspiracy to destroy every trace of family.
II
A husband, a father, no longer either, let alone both, Two decades after divorce's desecrating D-day, Sits outdoors, at any empty restaurant, On Memorial Day evening, His wounds still throbbing, and he remembers, painfully, The war, in which he lost his heart, his soul, Perished unheroically and was buried in unmarked earth, Which, to this day, continues to sink in on him, Compacting his bones, his soul, into a single atom — The only reminder that, once, A man walked the planet, dreaming of the glories of family.
05/31/10 - (2)
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