Memories

I used to pass an empty house On my way home from school I was only ten years old then I heard that older people lived There But I never saw them. Found old photos Showed them to Dad Where’d you get them he asked? Found them in the old house I said Then he and mother spoke In the privacy of their bedroom I saw the shadows of their arms Move And point toward my room This was the 1950’s Times were different And some things Were just never talked about. When the old house was torn down I went inside To look And to explore Kicking an odd piece of dirt The soft rotted wood moved And something flipped up Bones Some as big as my leg. But it was the damp smell of decay That I remembered Vividly Even at that time When anything new Was always exciting This was different I had not experienced anything like this before But I would years later Ten years later A decade to wait. I was In Country Two tours Separated from my group Never found Missing in action But really I’m dead Been like this for years All that’s left Of me Are bone fragments Part of a femur And a scratch of faded cloth Scattered over a vast green landscape At the edge of a jungle. Occasionally I hear digging sounds Not the heavy shovel kind But a gentle probing Of earth Someone intent on finding something But not wishing to disturb They haven’t found me Yet So I still wait. I never got used to the damp smell of decay But just the same I take solace In that smell Because it reminds me of Long ago When I was just a schoolboy Coming home.