Not Quite Ourselves
In whispers
“Cousin Tommy--
is passing among us--”
a photo
… at my father's funeral
We, dressed up to honor Dad
Spread the pall along his coffin
“The last thing you can do
for your father”
Mom whispered
to her daughters
There is never a last thing
that women do
...Then to her--
the folded flag
__________
Not quite ourselves --
that grief
that echos across decades
Memory is handed round--
that photo
of my Cousin Tommy
___________
His eyes gasp!
Grasp!
at me
desperate
in the sudden need for my knowing
that photo--
That this was all....
I would ever know of
you
In that instant
you pass on--
nothing--
but fear
You, paint for war like Mohawks
or something...
not quite yourselves
You guys
must've laughed
like hysterical fools
Half-shaving your heads
Painting each other's faces
And I don't remember
of course
Never met you
Not in my lifetime
________
That War
Not mine!
________
Germany
behind
the lines
of you
long since dead
at 18 years in '45
But I saw the photo!
RIP
the cord!
to slow descent!
Not quite yourself
Your head thrown back
against the terminal velocity
of your life
A war dance
that I had yet to know...
...your face reaches out
across the decades
for one last plea
“Tell them, Lizzy
Tell them 'bout me!”
Not quite myself
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC
Not Quite Ourselves
In whispers
“Cousin Tommy--
is passing among us--”
a photo
… at my father's funeral
We, dressed up to honor Dad
Spread the pall along his coffin
“The last thing you can do
for your father”
Mom whispered
to her daughters
There is never a last thing
that women do
...Then to her--
the folded flag
__________
Not quite ourselves --
that grief
that echos across decades
Memory is handed round--
that photo
of my Cousin Tommy
___________
His eyes gasp!
Grasp!
at me
desperate
in the sudden need for my knowing
that photo--
That this was all....
I would ever know of
you
In that instant
you pass on--
nothing--
but fear
You, paint for war like Mohawks
or something...
not quite yourselves
You guys
must've laughed
like hysterical fools
Half-shaving your heads
Painting each other's faces
And I don't remember
of course
Never met you
Not in my lifetime
________
That War
Not mine!
________
Germany
behind
the lines
of you
long since dead
at 18 years in '45
But I saw the photo!
RIP
the cord!
to slow descent!
Not quite yourself
Your head thrown back
against the terminal velocity
of your life
A war dance
that I had yet to know...
...your face reaches out
across the decades
for one last plea
“Tell them, Lizzy
Tell them 'bout me!”
Not quite myself
For Tommy Balise, my cousin, a Pathfinder Paratrooper, killed behind enemy lines in Germany by ****** fire, toward the end of WW2, 1945--age 18.
The photo:
https://www.google.com/search?q=ww2+paratroopers+native+American&tbm=isch&tbo=u&source=univ&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjGkbKejanbAhXIqlkKHVaiD14QsAQIJg&biw=960&bih=458#imgdii=ESME0TxHj6CnFM:&imgrc=uncjqWhwSZu5NM: