Do the fallen remember?..

A rewrite

  Do the fallen remember?

I remember my father, held on to the rum and he held on to the memories of the Korean war blood. I would stay-up with him and I would help him walk to his bed. He told me often, my son. I killed and I killed, son. I couldn’t kill enough to save my good friends John and Michael.

I remember three times when I was a boy, my father drank his rum and we would load the car. He wanted to visit his friend in California. He was drunk and we would make it half-way to Chicago and he would fall asleep. I would watch him sleep at a rest stop. We finally made it to California when  I was in the service and we visit his friend grave. Simple words written on the grave. Boy turn to man, a boy left for war and a soldier returned home to rest. Remember I lived once. My father and I drank beer by his grave in silence and I saw in my father’s eyes. War remembered and a goodbye needed.

I stood in a graveyard outside of Paris. 50,000 white markers, a World War two graveyard. I read names of men, who cannot speak no-more. I wonder what they would say? Most were just boys and young men. Just beginning to live and now I stand in the field of silence. I hear whispers. Please no-more war.

I left war un-marked, my cold heart didn’t know the mercy of burden yet. One day, good friends started to fall in Iraq in the new wars. War found me at home in Michigan and I learn my father’s sadness. I sat by a good friend grave, killed in a far-away war. I told him. I am with you my good friend, I haven’t forgot your smile and your laughter. I tell your children often. How much you loved them. They are beautiful and Megan is a mama now. The boy looked like you. I drink my friend favorite beer, Miller lite. I leave three cans by his grave-stone. I asked the sky. Do the fallen remember?

                                     Dancing Coyote

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Yes please...no more wars...
I had friends who went to Nam..came back different...the after effects are horrid....and for those who are lost in the wars...those left behind have to deal with the tragedy, the loss.
a very moving and real poetic journey here.
j.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Jacob. I am so tire of war. Last year in September, a 22 year old female Marine killed herself. Iraq dreams killed her. How many more must die for us to know. We are killing our children for the profit of war.

[Poetic Beauty]

War is difficult and things us civilians can’t comprehend happen forever changing the life of those affect by it or the ones left to grieve in the aftermath. Heartfelt and spoken with true knowing

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear friend for reading. No-one win in war. Just leave engraved memories of great people, great cities and sons/daughters loss to war.

[Poetic Beauty]

So true and heart breaking.

[raj24]

True, wars are for-profits and only sad stories are left but we humankind somehow find them fascinating, we find new reasons, new places to test our peace. Thanks for sharing it.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you for reading and I agree. Only the contractors gains from war.

[Beccy]

Will there ever be an end to war, or is conflict an aberrant gene programmed into our species from the very start of our existence? I often ponder this question, because war makes no sense at all.

Not that the why or how really matters, just the consequence, which is truly awful and seemingly never ending.

A moving write.

Beccy.

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you dear Beccy. Look at our world. How many peace-makers are leading their country? The men like Martin Luther King Jr. are silenced. Countries based on war fear the peace- makers.