What was once soft drops of collected sorrows,
turned into frozen bullets that followed me
towards shelter.
I watched storm clouds gather;
one would suspect a change in the weather,
but not me.
I trusted your showers
to water my flowers.
What a fool of me to think I could dance in your rain,
to think I could cast an array of colors in your capricious skies,
to think your darkness was beautiful like mine.
Before there was a ‘we,’
There was fantasy wondering if it was real
Heat dreaming it could cool
Before there was a ‘we,’
Right wanted to go left
Learning ditched schools
Before there was a ‘we,’
The obvious was the most dangerous thing to lurk
Never being spotted until it was too late
Before there was a we,
Every kind act was a strike
The only path was narrow and straight
Before there was a we,
The silence liked to sing
Every virtue is a sin
Before there was a we,
Bones were trying to become thin
Water turned into gin
Once there was a we,
My soul was replaced by Jazz
And every month melded into June
Now that there’s a we,
Regardless of when I die
It will be too soon
After Gwendolyn Brooks.
What is fear?
Fear is a folded flag of red, white, and blue with knowledge of being told
That this would be all the thanks you would receive.
Fear is remembering your first breath and instantly my heart swelling to hold
more love than I thought I ever could have. I watched your freckles as they appeared on your face so bold,
Each one adding more mischief than your mouth curved up at each end making a smile.
Fear is seeing your smart blue eyes eagerly etched
Into my mind like a permanent image carved into my soul. Your mind
Eagerly growing, your emotions so complex.
I always would think you are growing too fast my child, slow down a while.
Fear is hearing you in the third grade wanting to be one of those who serve.
How kind,
I thought that at that age you thought of others first.
Also thinking this was something fleeting and you would change your mind.
Until at fourteen, you joined JROTC and still said, “Mom, serving wouldn’t be the worst.”
For three years you wanted to join the Navy to save people from the water, but that bubble burst
No papers until you turned eighteen. That wasn’t soon enough to start your plight.
Your patience wearing thin waiting, until you came home from school
Shining so proudly bringing home papers to sign at seventeen,
Stating, “I’m going to be a United States Marine.”
Fear is what it means to send you to boot camp in the dark night.
My child is gone, always my baby but now a man. Sleepless nights, none
With contact for endless weeks. Resounding screams in my head cause tears
right
At my eyelids readily take flight anxiously grasping to see you again.
Awestruck and pride filled my soul seeing you had won,
The eagle, globe, and anchor and the title United States Marine.
Aching I watch you leave, not knowing when your calling will be done.
Or when I will see blue eyes, freckled face, and an upward-turned smile looking back at mine.
Fear is unsettling thoughts of a green cot holding your weary body grasping a canteen.
Eyes that had sparkles like the sea now dimmed with knowledge. The smile
And freckles coated in paint of black, green, and brown. How can this go unseen?
Hearing rapid gunfire in the distance, from the tent you see the sky erupt with light.
Fear is my stomach coiling and cramped spewing acidic bile
Up my throat waiting to hear when you are coming home or if...
Trainings all add up to one thing, battles that will need to be fought with guile.
Seeing news of fallen Marines only adds to the baggage under my eyes.
Fear is trying to sleep lying down, jealous of those who slumber so easily, eyes closed with
No care who paid the price of their ease to rest. Will my Marine pay
The greatest price for freedom? Will his name be lost and forgotten after the fifth
Day from his demise. While folks recite players’ names and stats for years to come.
Fear is thoughts of shrapnel screaming into your flesh as your breath leaves. You would say,
“I want my Mama.” The freckles would pale, your blue eyes cloud, and your smile gone
With a whimper. Thousands of miles away there could never be a good day,
To have a vehicle pull into your drive with an Officer of The United States Marines.
Fear is images of unveiling a wooden casket encompassing your once-joyful countenance
Now engulfed by silence.
Fear is the knowledge of possibly being handed a folded flag of red, white, and blue
And a cold, beribboned medal
With the knowledge that this would be all the thanks that you would receive.
