for a french grandfather and an american grandfather
by boopityboop
They lay on Normandy.
Two hundred miles away, the empty shells of humans
Who lie below the streets
Felt the poison that lurked above.
They shuffled out of the underground,
Boarding trains and ships like corpses
And dropping bombs from miles above.
A little French boy is spared.
His brother whispers “Bon courage,”
As the rest of the family are taken out back
And shot like mad dogs.
Twenty years later, he stands on the beach
With his young wife
Watching their sons roll and play in the sand.
His tongue tastes a warm salt
That couldn't come from the ocean.
All he can taste from the ocean is blood.
I can see my grandfather clearly
With tears falling down his face
As his mother shuts the piano.
“There will be no music,” she says quietly.
She is an immigrant
And I wonder if she questions the choice
That brought her son to a country where he might lay down his life
For strangers, four thousand miles away.
I can feel him now
Hiding in the apple trees,
High above the others.
He is in Sainte-Mère-Église, and there are enemies below.
And now I take them in my arms
Cradling them like children
“Je vous embrasse, les deux,”
And I lie down on the edge of the ocean at Normandy.
I exhale and hold them close.
The sun is shining, and I do not cry;
It is nothing but salt and water to me.