Killing Time
My father once sat waiting,
to live or die at roadside.
Kill or be killed!
Enemy or friend,
he shot first.
And in so doing,
he lived in flesh
but, died in spirit.
My father once sat waiting,
on a war tank at roadside.
Kill or be killed!
Enemy or friend,
he warmed himself.
Lounging on the tank,
listening, hearing,
of, final sounds inside.
Tick, tick, TICK,
my father jumped off.
His turn at warming!
Tank as body heater,
sliding off to explore.
The clockwork sound,
explodes in thunder
and, his men are dead.
My father sits waiting,
to live or die at home.
Time to be killed!
Growing older quickly,
catching up with ticks.
Finding his lost men,
collecting them now
since, only he won.
My father sits waiting,
as once a boy, to live.
A boy with men in war!
Innocence, forever lost,
robbed of all but waiting.
Evening the score,
his clay and dust
to blend, to settle.
My father a seedling,
taking hold of earth.
Forming a dandelion!
Budding him in yellow,
blowing feathered wishes.
For anything he killed,
enemy or friend
finally, he’ll sit waiting.
By Edlynn Nau
(Tribute to my father while he is still living, so
he knows that I knew, how hard each breath
was after Korea, as one of the living dead)
© January 13, 2020
Copyright © Edlynn Nau | Year Posted 2020
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment