He was born a boy
who knew he belonged
who felt safe at home and
who earned his way at school
He grew into a man
who knew where to walk
who felt harmonized
who earned his place among friends.
He was an untouched innocent
who never knew death
who never felt the animalistic actions of war and
who never earned respect from a captain
He matured into a soldier
who will always know battles
who will never feel safe again and
who has earned his right as a warrior.
He’s a transformed man
who will carry every death
who will waste away inside and
who will be destroyed before it all ends.
*Paul Baumer

The Pressure of the water
Is almost too much to bare.
The weight that is crushing me
Makes me tarnish and wear.

Waves crash above me --
Remember the forgotten.
The air that folds under waves --
A tease -- makes my soul rotten.

I will crave the oxygen
That I know is sweet relief.
But I am too far under --
Bottom -- to swim through grief.

But, like all worldly problems,
They are resolved by autumn.
I'm carried from the water --
Away from the bottom.

But, like it is expected,
It stays with me.
I hold the water -- Pressure --
With me when I am "free".

When the sun rises, the shadows come out. They stretch
over the dewed grass and up the brick walls. They hide
from the light that only makes them stronger.
Without light, there would be no shadows.
We think we can destroy them, using our
light. But really, they’re always there,
scattered, stretched, faded, on the
turf of the football field. My
shadow is no different. It
lurks behind me when
I walk to the bus stop.
It stretches over the
uneven sidewalk and
into the tar-spotted street.
Even at school, where the light
shines from the ceiling. It sits quietly
under my desk. Or when I perform, and the light
shine in front of me, it will dance with me, a secret duet.

I'm not crazy,
I swear.
You can't hear the voice?
The little bird that sits
On my shoulder and whispers
In my ear?
No?
That is your loss.
My voice tells me things
You can not imagine.
He whispers poems to me,
And sings lullabies to me,
And holds my hand when
I am scared.
But I'm not scared,
Not when he's whispering to me.
So I'm not crazy,
I swear.
My imagination is just too much
And needs to be expressed -- out --
Not kept inside because of fear.
You fear for me?
I fear for you
You have never known his whisper,
Or his music.
And you shall live hollow,
Because you have never known him --
Him who is your Genius.

I put my ear up to the glass,
And hear white noise.
I can see your lips moving,
And hear white noise.
You’re so close, yet so far,
On the other side of the glass.
Your eyes look at me, and see nothing,
On the other side of the glass.
I want to break through,
And feel your skin, your arms; your lips.
I need to break this barrier
And feel you.

I reach for you,
But the glass is cold.
I remember your warmth,
But the glass is cold.
Do you not see me now that
The window has fogged?
Can you see my tears even though
The window has fogged?
I want to wipe away this steam
And feel our connection again.
I need to wipe this veil of questions
And feel you.

Do you hear that
Pounding sound?
Is that you, beating on the glass and making a
Pounding sound?
Is that you becoming a
Clear image?
Are you wiping away the steam for a
Clear image?
Do I have the strength, to wipe away the steam
And feel vulnerable with you?
Lend me your courage to break this glass
And feel you.

When you sleep tonight
listen for music.
If you're in a dream,
listen for his voice.
He is always there,
crafting beautiful
jewels of great wisdom.
Close your eyes and look
for him, my dear child.
He has not left you.
This I promise you.
You'll be safe with him,
This I swear to you.
Now close your eyes, dear
Listen for music
Feel him hold you close.