The Distilled Essence of Daphne: Jun 3, 2011

Ironton’s Memorial Day Parade

Ironton’s Memorial Day Parade

To remember to honor and to celebrate,

To decorate the graves of those who fought…

Ironton parades through most of the middle of town—

Bands, floats, horses, clowns…

But most of all, people—

People of all types and ages.

Used to be said, if you were able,

You marched.

Whole classes of school children marched.

Men alongside the streets took off their hats,

And everyone put a hand to heart.

I remember the hours of preparation:

With chicken wire and tissue on trucks,

The band practices and marches,

Or, even Brownies getting scout cheers and songs right…

To ride in a squad car, a fire truck or an Army-Navy Duck…

Just to be in The Parade.

Now people come from everywhere to see our parade,

Our Parade…longest lasting…and proud.

May the graves be decorated,

The flag flown free;

May the flowers thrown on the River

Say thank you for liberty…

And may Ironton ever be able

To march for memory.

Those Orange Poppies

Those Orange Poppies

I remember the old men standing in front of Kresges

Selling small paper poppies…

Small orange flowers on a wire

That we hooked onto ourselves with pride—

‘Though some hooked them on to show they’d paid their buck,

But me, with a mix bittersweet, mostly sad—

Were always the skies gray those days,

Threatening rain?

Or, was it my heart would burst

Seeing those men whose smiles…

Smiles that never quite hid

Deeply wounded,

Woefully sad eyes?

She Never Married

She Never Married

For Vivian Taylor, A Friend and Landlady

(*loosely based on her story)

“Sweet lover, be safe as you fly from this place

To your missions in the Pacific.

I will await your return for then do we wed

After Guam, Midway, and ‘Unspecific.’”

Many letters she wrote, many pictures she sent,

Care packages when she was able…

While meanwhile she worked as a nurse and an aide

Though times were very unstable.

Sometimes he would write when he had the time

For combat, of time, was commanding.

Assuring him forever she would be true

Even though he was not so demanding.

This gave them both hope and a measure of joy

In the face of great fearful unknowing

Of where he would be, or if he would be

A part of a blood crop then sowing.

A year thereabout after he flew

Away from his love at the airport,

Two soldiers in blue came to her home

With the most regrettable report.

She took it quite well until they were gone

Then she collapsed on the sunroom divan,

Crying, “Sweet lover, be safe as you fly from this place

Until I join you in your mission in heaven.”

Flashback to Mekong: The War in Viet Nam

Flashback to Mekong: The War in Viet Nam

For Dustin Massie, Daniel Massie, David Massie,

Wayne Massie, and James Delong, My Cousins Who

All served willingly and honorably

And still the evil fought through lives

In minds and bodies all tattered

With memories of a limb or an ear

Or a child blown up and scattered.

Flashback to the now of the time when we hid

From the nightmare of still living

With a best friend’s right arm,

All that was left, of the life he was giving…

For a country who hated us…

In a country who hated us…

No reprieve.

Nineteen years old and proud of this land

Of our birth, our family, and teaching,

Many were drafted, so they couldn’t say no,

Regardless of the masses loud screeching.

War heroes, yeah right, stoned out of our minds

Blinding to terrors more real

Than any horror king knows,

And in our souls they live with us still…

For a country who hated us…

In a country who hated us…

No reprieve.

A Mother Cries for Her Fallen Son

A Mother Cries for Her Fallen Son

For Mrs. Goldcamp, Our Neighbor

Never will the guns be so silent

As the silence after death

Of those fallen to fight “the cause juste.”

Is a common life so shorn

Or youth so plentiful

To be offered up this way

By the wrathful God

Who has known not childbirth

Nor the enfolding of life

Into one’s arms, one’s heart, one’s womb?

In righting wrongs,

Did my son, my own,

Die suffering?

Did he fear the end when it came?

Did he know my love

Would outlast the grave…

Was this just cause worth this blood sacrifice

Offered to the God of war…

That tears my heart always?

Ah, my son, brave man and true,

Willing soldier, mother’s pride,

Well fought against madmen gone berserk

Setting the world on fire again.

Sleep now, my son,

For the guns are now dreadfully silent

But still at ready for

Another mother’s son.

During World War I

During World War I

For Grandpa Earl McKinley Bradshaw

A limb for a limb, a trunk for a trunk,

Broken bodies under broken trees

Across a land of holes and shells…

And still the artillery fired,

Bombs igniting an inferno Dante never knew—

The nightmare that was.

More men died from tree fall than gunfire,

Branches of weapons old yet new

Still brought the same end.

Dead is dead regardless of how…

And the remaining few do live?

Foreign borne to soil blood knows new yet old;

Wash it now in sanguined mud,

The creosote of millennia burst aflame—

The hatred, the fear, and the passion…

Friends fought beside now gone…

A man deemed enemy wasted,

Human parts flayed bare are seen…

But not…

Can such deep wounds of land or breast

Ever heal again?

The Korean War

The Korean War

For John Lewis Bradshaw, My Father

That blue square with the white letters

When sited target makes

Upon helmet or upon uniform,

Coppery, salty red lakes.

It’s not our war, but we are there

To save a peninsula from Red Peril,

We carry the war, to our dismay,

Like fish caught in a barrel.

A human wave poured out upon

The Father against the Son…

Divide them up and let them have

Demilitarized zone, not won…

Then let our soldiers coming out

Find a Red Cross no friend…

Not only give blood to pay blood

But also their own coins they spend.

Friday, June 3, 2011