WHEN LILACS LAST IN THE DOORYARD BLOOMED - May 2, 2007
In unearned homage to Walt Whitman
For all our soldiers
Iraq, Afghanistan,
Walter Reed,
Those gone,
Those safely home with their families:
Today, the neighbors’ lilac bush
Came almost to full bloom.
I stopped.
I thought of you.
Your dedication. Your families’ sacrifice.
I thought of me.
Our citizens’ sacrifice.
My family’s sacrifice.
My friends’ sacrifice.
My FDNY friend lost and crushed on September 11
Our $ 3.35 gasoline.
Etc.
I thought of
Our politician’s and Generals’ bumbling and lying
Looking forward to their government pensions,
And shameless war profiteers
All filched from my wasted taxes from my well-worn wallet.
I feel every wasted penny in my well-worn soul,
And heart.
And children will feel every wasted penny in their futures
And pay for the elder/parental disregard.
No more, ” Oh Captain, my Captain.”
The Captains have had enough;
Are overloaded.
The visions, thoughts and feelings
Faster than Hitchcok’s shower scene in “Psycho,”
But more bloody
And in color
And live
Or dead.
I stuck my nose in the center of the lilac bush
And breathed deeply, as I do every spring
With this lilac bush.
Old friends.
A city bus went by
With diesel exhaust.
Oil.
I inhaled the lavender lilac scent
With more strength.
For all of you.
For all of me.
For all of us.
Wars are wars.
Humans plant them.
Humans nurture them.
They come.
They go.
They come again.
Perennials.
And the lilac bush returns,
Accomplishing nature's sacred mission,
Wondering
Exhaling
Whispering
“Why?”
in media resLast edited on Fri May 4th, 2007 06:11 pm by in media res
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