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POEM: LONG POEM FOR PEACE (PT III)

Long Poem For Peace (PT3)
it is all a lie
it is noise and confusion
inherited foolishness, well kept and passed down
father to son
now you will see me
you will not hide from me I will hold the flame on your mind
until the fire catches
cant you see who I am
the gray dawn
sweet among the hills of Tennessee
home
the gray rough new uniform
the new packets of powder and shot,
the brass shiny caps
a rainy mist, the gray lines
the cavalry call
the answering volley
the first
so it begins
I am now turning around and around looking,
everything moves so slowly
the man in blue twists and shatters before my eyes
settling like a rag across a fallen tree
all scarlet and shiny
I am a thunder,
my ears hear a drum beat ever slower
I am on fire
the world is turning red and silent,
I look down at the ring on my finger
you will hear me now
you will hear my bride weep
you will smell the honeysuckle vine I fell into
it takes me home outside the window
I sing in the vines
a chill runs through and through the woman looking out
seeing the gray clouds scuttle by
I close my eyes
put it down
, put down the page
, put away the pen
quiet the rage
try to still the tongue and silence the song I bring
I am alive
deep in the truth I reside
I show you the lies
I will not be gone
back to the romance of the fife and drum, bagpipe and song
dances at the academy
in smart new uniforms
all the shiny fancy aircraft
the napalm scudded like burning vomit across the village
the babe sizzled like bacon
popping and spitting as the fire consumed it
I am transfixed
still frozen
I am as stone
my child burns and I melt into the fire
the fire leaps up my long hair and kisses my cheek
the cow staggers by outside on fire
I can hear grandmother singing
I feel the long rain
coming now
I am the fire
you should know me better
you play on your island testing ground
curious children
you get your revenge on the yellow people
I'll take your world from you if you are not careful
I am fire
I am awake
in the mud listening to the men try to explain themselves
how did we get here in France ?
hell Henry and I volunteered down at the station that's how we got here
Cindy kissed me goodby
that is all I really wanted,
was for her to kiss me good by
and look at me that way.she did as she said she would wait for me
I am cold now
quiet and dead,
covered up in the bottom of the trench
slipped back down into the mud
smacked in the forehead,
it felt like a hornet sting and a hard punch between the eyes
everything went white and shiny for a moment
a deep dark starry night sky spinning all around
a beautiful point of singing light
the most radiant ring of light
the gate
but I wanted to come home to Cindy !
I cant be here yet !
the men don't understand that they are also dead yet
standing in line to sign the papers and give their lives for their country
boy
that's the answer
searing tearing pain
the whole side of my face blown away
I'm staring at you in disbelief
with one eye hanging out,
for a moment I can see it
I am home
I am yours
I walk the lonely clay road in Alabama
looking for my home place in the summer sun
I see a an old oak tree,
the dewberries are ripe
and now the big circle of oaks
the lighter knot gate post
but no gate,
only the chimney stands from the old home place
I suppose the Philco radio is gone as well?
how is this
I was standing on the foredeck watching the incoming zeros
looking for my recon man when something went terribly wrong
for a second I understood torpedo
land we lifted up as if by invisible hands and were slammed with fire,
just a blink
mom
Ill show you the truth
truth is thirst
when you have no water for days
simple quiet deep
terrifying truth
watch the soldier drink
, then laugh at us and spit it out
he spits out whole mouthfuls on the dry ground
the ache
worse than any lover's desire
for just a sip
you know what war is?
I know you do not get it
or
it would be ended
the truth will make you insane
with thirst
twist in the fire
try to fly from the raging pain in your head and screaming through yourbowls
gasp for air in the heat of your cell
death in Afghanistan
the Patriots cause
you are fools to believe
you win when you kill
any one
, any one, so bold and brilliant in wisdom
to say
I am God
is welcome to hell
its yours
you make it
you keep it
jump up and shout,
run, sing and dance
love the killers one and all
every mother's son with blood on his hands


         By David Wetzel

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