Our Soldier Son

Our Soldier Son 2007 We sat together in the front row At airport gate number five (his father and I), Watching as he paced Toward the exiting corridor. Then at the opening of that Passage, he stepped to turn about-face, Returning his way back to us. He had brought Iraq along with him — blown, Thrown in with him,an illusory, yet Unignorable, oppressive envelope, seen Quickly by his uniform (not army green), From shoulders to feet, The color of dune sand — A neutral color, negligible, Meant for fading away Into invisibility — But, still, bearing within it, a human being, Breathing in the reality of war… This time in Iraq. Our son Ready to fly off for his 2nd tour there: Tank gunner; despising the unrelenting sand bugs; only ever asking for clean socks. He continued his pacing-march Near us. Without peace, Already on the way, Already outfitted to seem part of a sandstorm — light, only essence; a reality elsewhere; a heart guarded; a soul on hold; ears alert for commands, And now for a call to begin boarding. We were silent as he hoisted his gear, although We rushed to him As if we could be of any help. And… What? What, dear Lord, do you say Sending a son off on a flight Back to war? Words are all inadequate — Though they must be said. Hugs cannot enfold the love’s totality, nor could hold him Back from going, But the motions must be made. There was our silent gift Of faith, to him, to ourselves, For his safe return. Faith is held for many things From survival to resurrection. The memories are kept. The present is paced. The future is hope. ———————————————- (c)sally young Eslinger 11/12/21 Thanks be to God ———