August 13, 2005
Cindy Inspires Poets
Phil Specht and Shelley have been inspired by Cindy Sheehan
Also, Julie Li
Read their poems.
The Crosses Behind Cindy
Cast aside
left to lie
left by a lie
to die
ditched
uneven row
uneven sacrifice
now as always
a mother's grief
the gift
of war
not shared
unfathomed but felt
though...
Cindy knows we
are with her
with Casey
with the rows
that grow
uneven like the tears
in the fabric of our heart
that so torn
needs the love of quilters
to be reborn
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Phil Specht
******************************************************************************************
At Walter Reed
?You?re the only one can fix it?: film projector
In the janitor?s back closet, crammed with
Ancient science films the teachers showed
Over and over, tired of us rough-housing,
Cursing, starting fights. I should have studied
Harder: I was young. Still, they called me
The Projector, and I sat apart in darkness
Like a king, tinkering with that clattering
Machine, dust motes spinning in its
Beam as reels wound down. I said I?d
Be a pilot, so I had a girl. My favorite
Cartoon showed a smiling little man
Launched deep in space. Voice
Warned: ?So far away, we fear
He may lose all desire to come back home.?
I fix?I fixed?trucks. Stationed
In that desert. Air Force. Not
A pilot, like they?d said: called
Growing up. The guys stuck
With the rattling Humvee, they said,
Come on, you?re the only one can
Fix it, old jalopy?just a milk run
To Fallujah, say you?ll go. So I said
Yes. White sun: that?s the last thing
I remember. ?Trap!?, curse,
Dark. In war, things
Happen.
We get the best of care?oh, I?m
Cut off next month, some paperwork
Snafu?but PT, Physical Therapy, and
Surgery, the best. My mom, she lost
Her job to be with me. But every time I
Wheel out of the room, she looks up
Waiting, like there?s something
I should say. Hey Mom,
Relax! I?ll be back
Soon, and explain
Nothing.
Once she drove three days to see
The Wall. See my dad?s name. I hated
Grownups crying, so I ducked my head
And looked instead at all the funny stuff
Folks left?a cartoon lighter. One black
Boot. A silver ring. A letter: this guy
Writes that he can?t take his sons out
Fishing. Since he?s back, he always
Sees the deck flood
Red. ?The fish don?t
Bite now, like with
Someone else?s father.?
My leg ends in a curve. And then
A space that still can trick me
When I wake. Turns out
To live, you must know
Nothing: walk
On air. Stand on no
Ground. What?s left:
My mom, my dad,
The PT girl who?s
Knocking at my door?
It?s time?and a silver
Limb that some tech shined.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
by Shelley
**************************************************************************************
Wars
Who can write
another
poem about them.
Have they changed?
In some way, are they
sane
now, in ways they were not
when it took a crane to lift
a warrior onto his horse?
Is the blood less red
when spilled?
Are wives hearts less
fragile
when the letter arrives?
Or the friend?
Or the One in Charge?
Now the soldiers
no longer paint themselves
blue,
the orphans are happier,
Mothers more comforted?
Father don't grit their
teeth, and refuse to weep
any longer?
The ones who do come home
are saner, now that we
do not use
mustard gas?
Are fewer profits made on
war
these days?
Fewer fat cats get
less gold?
No more Pork Chop Hills
so every little thing is
fine?
And what of those
who love it?
Who see it as
"our finest hour" ~~
When we are brave
When we are golden
and full of good.
Banzai.
What of them:
they make it possible.
Don't they?
Julie Li
August 13, 2005