Two Generations in the Long War

 

Ten years ago, his grip was secure

as the concrete earth he made a carpet

every hour of his waking life;

You were proud to reach his knee then.

 

‘Are we lost?’  he asked.

‘Sure we’ll be home soon enough’

he replied in that Northern accent

drastic as a pneumatic drill.

 

His hand is still firm as a brick;

but like a boy’s woken from nightmare,

shakes like the white flags

by the Roseville flats three decades past.

 

'How's college?' he asks.

'Great,' you say; look down and think,

what can you say, 'how's work,

how is war - the long one?'

 

'Do you want a cup of tea?' he asks

and sports an urban smile.

All you can think of is sandpaper.

How it rounds the edge off of things.

 

Reviews

[Steve]

I can really relate to this. I have a similar problem when it comes to trying to start and maintain a conversation with some.....lol

i like how these chapters are connecting our present with the past.