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4th Of July

Today was my dad’s birthday.
I do not hate this day.
He loved this day.
So,I do not hate it?
I put out flags,for him.
I am unsure why my pain levels rise at night.
Torpedo speed.
Bent on destruction.
Is that the only direction that we know?
I did not want to drive home tonight in the dark.
But there was no place to stop or stay.
No safe cave along the way?
Two tires almost dead.
The mechanic gave me 3 weeks on them.
It has now been well over 2.
Ball joints in this one.
Transmission in the other.
The bike is flat.
But I have feet.
Speeding down the roads
Talking myself down from the cliffs
While bombs fly all around.
My memories are old...
Reflections in water.
The ones setting off fireworks
Don’t even probably know of the soldiers in the swamp!
They came up the little inlets.
From old wooden boats,bellies in the mud,
Soft water lapping.
This was long ago...
The bullets remain in the houses here.
That old scarred wood
Now hidden with vinyl,
so soon,
The memories fall to history
And are forgotten by generations.
It wasn’t their blood,after all.
Colors fall all around. 
What must the fish and blue crabs think?
Do they remember and tell stories of mud turned red
While lights flash &, today,their own dark mud 
shimmers with flashes of rainbows?
A shy rabbit crossed the road.
A honk of the horn.
I talk myself down.
Drive on,drive on,but watch the wire,roll on.
When that wire breaks,communication is lost.
Cigarettes &chocolate bars,someone else’s too-small-shoes,
Always more mud & blood.
The wars repeat themselves.
Because human hearts aren’t honest.
Because I say I love you but you can not understand.
Because the bombshells are falling all around.
& the air disappears.
& who can hear?
When you stop speaking.
When you stop listening.
When the flashing lights disappear.
When darkness washes all away...washes me away.
When you turn your back
& Once again
Awalk away.
I have learned from you,to turn away first.
&the wars grow on, grow on...
Tonight,I fight the heat.
Thinking ahead of hurricanes waiting to come.
Thinking ahead to that bitter freezing cold.
But,slowly,I talk myself down,again.
As pain fills the silence.
There is an ebb & flow.
And wars roll on,roll on.
The hyperness, though not a word,
Is still a sign, a foreshadowing, 
Of the crash to come.
How do you stop a war?
You give up.
Give into the pain.
Wait for a new day.
Keep on keepin’ on.
Mind that wire.
Swap stories with crabs,
While dangling feet off the cliff.

Copyright © Rahri Behler | Year Posted 2018