Standing There (Veteran’s Day) 11.11.19
I saw him there standing in line
Camouflaged, uniform pressed.
He stood with quiet confidence
and patience like the rest.
I watched him, as he didn’t know
I stood in the corner quiet.
Thinking young men like him,
fighting in the night.
I tried to envision his young face,
brown with all the sand.
Covered from the desert hills
holding a gun in his hand.
There I stood, even watching more
as he responded to the clerk
Then I thought of soldiers like him
digging holes for beds at work.
I stood there in reverence,
although he did not see.
Trying to understand the core
who volunteers for me.
I watched and on his face I saw
many who stood there too.
It wasn’t just one soldier in the boots
but many who fit his shoes.
I lowered my head and felt the moment
of the ones who already died.
The children, the loved one, left behind,
buried in pillows to cry.
He turned, a stranger all the while
and tipped his hat to go.
I prayed a quiet prayer and looked
up, smiled and said hello.
Leaving through the open doors
I was left with only my thoughts.
There is a force out there in our youth
a force that has fiercely fought
It is made up of the young and strong at heart
and trained to combat the wars.
The American soldier, with iron hands
and a kind heart that keeps no scores.
Copyright: CMM 2000
Haiku
Morning sun rises
My soul’s shade is lightened now
No rain weigh it down .
Copyright © CMM. 2019
I Look to the Heavens
It is 3:00 a.m.
My hands cupped
Snuggly around my
Coffee cup.
The flicker of the fire
Reflects my feelings
As if it is catching
Pain with every spark.
The rhythm of my heart
Beats just enough to get
My attention that I am real.
I miss people who have passed,
the little furry friend I have lost
and Grandma’s home.
I cannot rewind time,
Or reset the clock of yesterday
Or recreate people who cause pain.
Sitting here this morning in
Solitude and still darkness
I am reminded of the truth.
I am present in the early morning,
I am grateful for found peace,
I look to the heavens always.
Copyright: CMM 2019
I Lost My Friend in the Rain
I lost my friend under the rain.
She and I use to run long distances
when we were young.
We spoke of sweethearts and dreams,
sports and basketball.
We shared french fries,
Dr. Pepper and coke floats.
She held the record for the broad jump
in school. I played basketball,
I was a forward.
There were always tomorrows,
until I lost my friend in the rain.
She let go one day
leaning outside against her car in the rain,
it was suicide…
Copyrighted: February 2018 CMM
A Poem
If I wrote among the willows would the earth receive my tears ?
Would the roots gather moisture and return the pain of years ?
If I dry my tears with ashes and wipe my anguish with moss,
would the day seem less melancholy and the passing less a loss ?
Be with me a moment and I will gather in the rain
All the earth of my humanity and the lightening of my pain …
copyrighted: CMM 2014
Father’s Day
I sit on the frozen metal chairs, serving to brace my back,
but not my feelings.
Whipping sounds of the cold wind
carries the wet tapping’s on the tent.
Smells of spring are muted by the unearthed hole
covered now with artificial turf
and mounded piles around the edges.
The box, the gray silver box
suspended over the receptor dug for it.
‘Stars and Stripes’ reminiscent of wars
fought in the past, and forgotten not.
Forgotten days of heroic acts
of wars not forgotten and now
remembered; this daughter remembering not.
Six foot and oh so many tall inches
my brother, sitting close by; silent.
He looked past me sometimes and sometimes noticed
with a reassuring nod he was there.
Not saying too much as people approached him,
this the only son and namesake of the departed.
Deep into his blue eyes and the stark black hair
quickly graying prematurely, I saw volumes not being said.
A southern preacher, (friend of the family),
began the eulogy saying blessings over and over.
Dried eyes of the few remaining in black, some standing
some sitting, the wet canvas swayed in the storm.
We all listened, thinking silent thoughts not to be repeated.
Histories of misunderstanding hung in the damp
heavy air, brought by the remnants of winter’s farewell.
The flag now folded is awarded to the oldest
daughter with honors, she trembling in response; cried.
The ” Our Father”, started with the eventual joining of all,
while my earthly Father lay there,
deep within a coffin of ‘no memories.’
I heard this echo, this voice hardly recognizable over the phone,
one of the few times we spoke, “I love you”, he said.
Remembering his words was my eulogy to him
in my unspeakable thoughts.
The blessing, a song, the familiar “Amazing Grace”
a final prayer being said, I never heard.
People stood to speak to the other, and others couldn’t get
through crowded yesterdays; keeping them still.
Stronger spirits pilgrimage with hellos, and talk of the weather,
and “my how you have grown” and “time sure passes.”
Glancing I turn to see the workmen began to drop the coffin
of a man I never knew, they say, “He was my Father.”
© CMM 1994
Eagle and Child Inkling 