I Remember

I remember when there were flowers in your hair.
I remember when we stood side by side against war and racism.
I remember when the police beat us and arrested us.
I remember falling in love with you.
I remember hanging on to every word you spoke.
I remember how we fought and how we loved.
I remember the parks where we met.
I remember the rallies before the march.
I remember the smell in the summer air.
I remember every moment in time.
I remember when it ended.
I remember when we stopped.
I remember everything.
I watch it every day.
I remember.

My Confession

I was born in a small town.
I grew up in that small town.
I worked in that small town.

I left that town college was waiting for me.
My goals were in site and my future was there for me.
A year went by and it came crumbling down.
And the military came knocking on my door.

I did not believe in the war.
Yet I did not wish to be away from my home.
Canada is where I could go.
But a fugitive I would become.

In battle I would avoid but bringing home the wounded.
That would be my job.
A terrible thing to watch men die and others loose limbs.
That was my job and I thank God that I did my job well.

Then the Reserves I would go. Watching men build.
Others practice there skills. Not as bad as before.
Then one day I had enough.
I left to move on but the all the jobs between had took it toil.

I sweat, I dream, I sit awake all night.
I see each one even though I do not know there name.
Some say I am a hero. There is no hero in the things I have done.
Many have died in my arm. Many tears I have fell down my cheeks.

The faces come at night in my dreams, the screams are loud above the machinery.
The blades cut through the air, a hand reaches out and I take it.
They ask am I going to make it? Before I answer I ask God to forgive the lie.
I tell him yes, hold on we will be there in just a minute.

I was a Medic in the Army.
I was a EMT at a Hospital
I was a Police Officer in a City.
I was a Deputy Sheriff in a County.

I had to give it all up because I could not take what I was seeing.
The pain, the suffering.
I ask God to forgive me if I ever was wrong.
This is my Confession. God help me if I was wrong

For This Is My Confession.
I Ask For Your Forgiveness.

Photo: Unknown

I Am

I am not a robot following commands.
I am a person of strong convictions.
I am not a violent person.
I believe peace can be achieved.

I am not a greedy person.
I believe that wealth breeds corruption.
I am not a war monger.
I believe we can work thing out.

I am not blameless.
I have my faults.
I am not free to insults.
I will walk away.

I am not free of hate.
I believe I can free myself of hate.
I am not heartless.
I can love all.

I am not the person you think I am.
I am and always have been strong in faith.
I am not a doubter.
I am a spreader of Good News.

I am not a monster to be afraid of.
I would not hurt a fly.
I am not a mold of society.
I am me and I walk my own road.

I do not believe in fairy tales.
I believe in my heart.
I do not keep secrets.
I am an open book.

I am not God.
I would not pretend to be.
I am not an Angel.
That would be pretending to be God.

I am always here.
I am always caring.
I am always loving.
I am always there for you.
I am the one who will hold you while you cry.
I am the who will listen.
I am the person that smiles at you each day.
I am all of this and more.

I am not.
Yet I am.
That was yesterday.
And this is today.
I am not yesterday.
I am now.

I am not.
Yet I am.

I am.
Are you?

The Grove

I walked through a grove.
A grove of hero’s.
The white stones all in a row.

Upon these stones,
Names of those buried there.
Where they served.
When they died.
And the rank they held when they died.

A tiny Cross on some.
The Star of David on others.
A small flag waves in the breeze.
The silence here is haunting.

These stones stand tall and straight.
They bore no fruit.
They only told a small story.
One of a  Soldier who lays now in the ground.

I stop and salute as I pass each stone.
A child ask me why I saluted each stone.
I could only say that it was my way to honor those here.
He said he understood.

As he walked away I saw him saluting the stones.
I knelt down and ask God to protect the young child.
So that they would never know the story told in this grove.
That this grove only grows as those who serve die and come home.

As I walked away I heard a voice behind me.
The voice seemed as if it was in a tunnel.
It said “Bless You Comrade.”
I turned and no one was there.

Sleep Comrade your peaceful sleep.
Dream of times without wars or hate.
Hope for the country that sent you here.
Wait for someday we will see you again.

As I got in my car to leave I felt a hand.
It took my shoulder and held tight.
A whisper in my ear.
And it was gone.

I walked through a grove today.
A grove of Graves.
A grove of Hero’s.
A Comrade In Arms.
A soul of humanity.

Yes, I walked through that grove today.
And there I will stay.
For I am only one story.
My stone tells my short story.
And I will be here forever.

That is the grove of my friends.
That is the grove where I live.
The Grove of the Dead.

Green, Smells, And Pain

I woke this morning, wondering where I am,

I was far away and it wasn’t part of my plan.

The dusty smell and sound of rain on the roof,

Giving me the feeling of something quit wrong.

As I rise I noticed the boots next to my bed.

And a Green Uniform hanging on the wall.

The red cross could be seen through the roof.

It was then I knew that home was far away.

I heard the chopping of large blades turning around.

The heavy load makes a scary noise.

The call of all available personnel to report to duty

clearly heard above all other noise.

No, dreaming, only reality.

There I was running buttoning my shirt.

Holding on to the bag with the red cross.

Stepping into the Helicopter as the skids came off the ground.

What would I see today, would it be my last?

Will I get home standing up or laying down?

Questions with no answers.

Only the thought of the mission.

Evacuate all injured personnel.

So as you go about your day.

You put it all behind you.

So they say.

Yes, I woke up this morning.

With visions of great conflict.

Not knowing what the day would bring.

Only that when the day is over.

The horror was over.

Locked into my mind was you.

Locked into this dream was home.

Locked up was the pain of war.

Locked was the many who died.

And the pain of those who lived.

I can not say if saved anyone.

Nor can I say that I did not kill someone.

I only hope that the day I meet my maker,

He will understand.

I have no second chance.

I will have to live with this.

The darkness of night,

The rain and the flight.

The call of a man in pain.

Where do I put these thoughts?

Will they haunt me?

Will I always have to look over my shoulder?

To see if there is someone there?

Will what I did be marked down in History.

Or lost in the pages of time.

No longer do I wake with these thoughts on my mind.

No longer do I feel the pain.

At least that is what I tell myself ,

As each day I hear or see something that takes me back.

Back to a time of Darkness.

Yes, I was a Combat Medic.

I did not fight as most.

I fought to save not to kill.

For that I am given nightmares.

Night mares of an unjust war.

I do still think of you.

I still know where you are.

I still wonder.

Will the day ever come?

The day I hold you.

And all the pain will go away.

I woke up this morning.

The smell of dust and rain.

Shaking as I dress.

Running into hell.

Never knowing how it will end.

Today I woke up still in love with you.

Today I watched lives pass from living to dead.

Today I heard screams of pain and the ones wishing to die.

Today I became a Man.

So they say.

If I am measured by this one act.

Then I am found wanting.

When I woke up today.

One Will Live And One Will Die

See how they wander around?

Lost and without purpose.

They know not what they are searching for.

Yet it is right in front of them.

How lonely they must be!

They go here and there and come back again.

None knowing what they seek.

They call out in pain.

One calls God, while another calls Allah.

Then one sings Om and the others chant in harmony.

One ask for guidance while others ask for gold.

Some seek knowledge while others remain in the dark.

None so proud as to stand up and show ignorance of what it wants.

One will die and another find riches.

One will have wisdom while the other wanders endlessly about the earth.

Day will break and they will start it over again.

Calling out for one they can not see.

They will ask for more because there is never enough.

They will seek out what they are not given.

They steal from each other gaining nothing in the end.

Once they lay down again for sleep one will find the way.

But in the night a stranger appears and takes one away.

Another will die and some will wonder.

As they again  seek what they can not see.

Allah, God, Om and Chanting become one.

If only they knew to only take what they need.

Leaving the rest for another day.

One will die and another will seek.

And life’s circle will start again.

For as each day there will be night.

And as one is born they begin to die.

For what they believe is handed down.

Never written or printed to paper.

Pass from mouth to ear they teach each the way.

And one day the Aliens came and moved them far away.

They took the language and culture.

And one will die and another will get away.

When all is said and the day is through.

They bow to the Sun and rise to the Moon.

The tides of the water and the flow of the earth.

Teach if one will but see.

One will die and another see.

And in that time life will fall away.