Balm For Scars~

~a memorial in memory~

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The old man lay against his memories in a bed of soft cotton

shivering

as I placed the glass against his lips;

sometimes I could almost see the blood

pouring

out of the scar on the side of his throat

as he'd dream the past into the bedroom

on nights like these

when the thunderclouds opened their veins

and every sound was the scream of mortars exploding

there

in those flashing lights

his fists against the strobe

and here

I would bend into his milky eyes

uncurl his fingers into my hand

slip white shoes from my feet

stretch youth against his bones

take his mind out of a bunker

into the green spirals of my myth iris

warm color of my lips on his temples

until he saw past the sounds of dying

seeping through from his personal history

which is where he'd returned

to live

on most days

with the onset of strange

neural pulses

that leave their imprint with age

in memory hollows

and pain pressures

 

"Joachim."  I would whisper past the wail of summer storms

past the rain of bullets

touch my palms

one to his cheek

one to his threading heartbeat

to pull him up out of the labyrinth

of bleeding children bent over the bodies of millions

and for a moment he would show me cornflower blue

attuned light

past his cataracts

and I would catch him into me

pull him into me

against the white of my uniform

the rhythm of my soul

and he would slip, saying

"Meydele," dreaming a memory of Dara, his daughter, into me

"Dara, you should be going to school now."

and I became the child he'd lost long ago

to yet another human  war

"Throw those boots out." Joachim would say

as I would hold the glass of water to his lips

until the liquid soothed his tongue

feeding him peace

comfort

from my heart's basket

my warm hands

until the storms grew quite

and he closed his milky eyes

folded

into my body bread . . . .

 

What can you do for scars like these

aside from becoming the balm?

 

 

 

copyright:2010/vssmd/pa.inc

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

 

 

 

excerpt from

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Goodbye]

This poem reminds me of a man that I worked with who was in hospice - his WWII memories coming back to haunt him, washed over with memories of his family. This exudes the quality of one that is moving between life and death, reviewing, searching for meaning, traumas resurfacing...

[The Warrior Poet]

You have captured something very powerful here.

This is very meaningful for me personally. I fell in "Love?" with a nurse during Desert Shield when I was in the hospital for 3 weeks. She was on night shift during my stay and I used to stay awake at night to talk to her - even though she told me to go to sleep.

I definitely didn't see her as a daughter (insert wry grin)...

[Brad]

you never cease to amaze me, this was so heart rendering and soft in such a bitter and harsh reality

[C]

Giving and empathetic of love to someone who's seen too much in life......so lovely.

[Kerry O'Connor]

Sometimes the greatest gift is care.

[Cafe Reader]

You take us to a magical place with every poem. My father is a veteran. Thank you, Miss Selene.

[Aven]

you unwrap the cotton from the heart and hold it up for the whole world to see... a painful yet warming read...

[Ed Hart]

amen...the places where we learn about love, about giving while we receive...thank you for reaching into yourself and showing where it began for you