they don't speak about him
always quick with a joke, sharp as a knife
(she tells me he was a little like me)
he was always coming home with a black eye
because he got in a fight defending the weak
he was a troublemaker with a big smile
someone you couldn't help but like
but they don't speak about him anymore
his room was usually locked
but for some reason the door was sopen
just enough for me to slip through
his room a shrine to a memory
everything left exactly as he left it
a photo album sits on the bed
a flag enclassed in glass next to it
a pair of boots neatly on the floor
I guess it was all they got back besides a body
there's photos pinned to the wall
memories he placed, of laughing friends
and parties and dogs and girls
something a young man's life should be
wrinkled photos of ragged men
with too much sunlight in their eyes
and war on their faces
have been tossed into the trash
like someone didn't want to remember
what his last years were
I picked them up and saved them
because they had each other's back and
saved each other
and they were his brothers, his family
I can't be in the room anymore
it feels too strange
so I slip out
closing the door behind me
I go back to dinner and sit with them
they don't realize anything happened
they pretend nothing ever happened
but I've never forgotten it
I remember when he came home
and he wasn't the same, he was haunted
he was always my idol
he was older, smarter, braver
I wanted to be just like him
but he looked me in the eye and shook me
by my shoulders
"don't you dare be like me, boy.
don't you dare become a soldier.
you stay here and you take care of all
of them for me, okay?"
and then he was gone again
and he never came back
they don't speak of him
because it hurts them too much
it's easier for them to pretend he never
existed, or that he never
died
but I know he never would have wanted
to be forgotten
so I'll honor his memory
and do what he told me
I'll take care of her
because he wanted to take care of all of us
his nation owes him a gratitude
he was a hero who loved his country
and gave his life for his brothers and for all of us
I will not let him be forgotten
even if they won't speak his name
YOU ARE READING
BURN (Wattys2015?)
Poetry"Poetry...is thoughts that breathe and words that burn."--Thomas Gray "Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." --Leonard Cohen Poems on the tough stuff in life. Poems on the crazy good stuff in li...
