Medals and Questions

Medals and Questions

the lady breast fed the soldier

before a gun was put in his infant hands

a mother held him to her womb

carefully, like a hand grenade

with a pulled pin

holding together a diaper of future

He will kill

he has to wail

babies do that

and then he will teethe

and they will be sharp but silent

as he follows orders

leaves behind his crib for 

a fort

and he will crawl again

in a jungle far away

his mother will weep

and hold him tightly in her thoughts

as she reads his final letter

he will be home or missing

his baby cries echoing in her head

she feels the gunfire

as if it is pressed against her breast

instinct tells her

he is no longer

her tears draw diagrams

of the fetus

that lived only to die

and for what end?

who gets to put the crib

away in the attic

to wait for the next soldier?

erin-cilberto

7/20/24

Reviews

[h d e rushin]

In other words, who gets the luxury of burying the dead in grassy meadows? My auntie (dead now) showed me a telegram from the war department about her missing brother killed in action during the Ardennes Offensive in 1944. In the same scrapbook of memories was a picture of her and him playing in a sandbox and smiling as children always do. Where is that scrapbook now? Where are those pictures; those memories that take us back to more innocent times? All gone to some landfill or the attic of a cousin she hardly knew in life. Poems are artifacts, Jacob. Not notes or exclamations. Not brief summaries, not gossip, memorandums, records or reports. If anything at all, they are observations made about promises mostly un-kept. Nicely written my friend. dana.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your insights, dana.
I am going to look for that scrapbook...
and yes, maybe someone in the very far future will find our artifacts (poems) and try to decipher them to understand who we were.
j.

[Jaffer]

Very touching reminder of thousands that die before their mothers. They mother and son both have no future left. Why give even birth? Not fair.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your understanding words, Jaffer,
j.

[Patricia Wedel]

The Crib in the Attic does matter… in Silence we whisper a Mothers ❤️ Love… Amen.. Pat

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Thank you for your words, Pat,
j.