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Walter Hill Poem
Eye-to-Eye
Tormented air hangs thick, blinking as the sun clears the clouds.
Bird unseen calls out, taking flight, running like I feel.
Friends are dead and dying, smoke drifts over the covered.
Looking down eye-to-eye, you in black me in green.
Another day for me to live - none for you.
Happy, sad, glad, wanting to cry, forgotten how.
Pull on a Winston, flick the ash and cough it back.
Blinded eyes by smoke and you pass, feeling lucky to be alive.
Kick the dirt, wonder why, learn to live another day.
Breathe easy, asking God for you and me.
Turn to look around, seeing the waste of war a cause unknown.
Hard at heart, seeing all and seeing nothing to care for.
Hear my heart, feel my chest rise and fall, but nothing to care for.
One last drag and hold till the pain rises and release.
Flick the butt of away one last look down not seeing you seeing not.
Smell the sweat, the oil, the residue of gunshot.
A cry far off, like an echo in the night – What I say! Who is there answer me!
Again the cry, I look round desperate to see – Where are you?
Frightful the cry calls out – frightfully I search, finding no one and nothing.
Like the dawn of a new day, the cry is from within and I answer – I am here! I am alive!
Copyright © Walter Hill | Year Posted 2016
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Walter Hill Poem
Swing Alone
As I look out upon the sea of green, shielding my eyes from the sun’s reflection off the lake
A soft breeze moves, pushing your swing gently to and fro
The old swing, a silent memorial – I dream of you.
Many days I watched you as you sat with quite thoughts, one leg hanging, and the other curled.
From the solstice of June days till many days past the equinox you enjoyed your solitude in the early morn.
Looking out every morning with forlorn hope, bidding to catch a passing sight of you.
I look upon your lonely swing each morning, accepting sadness in return.
Faint echoes of your heart felt laughter, with your head thrown back, till tears make you stop – I hear.
The old swing, a silent memorial – I dream of you.
Together we sat on your lonely swing, you with blush, and me with summer ale.
We talked of dreams and plans we made, our list was long and pockets empty, what marvelous dreams we made.
The old swing, a silent memorial – I dream of you.
Time and time I lay at night knowing you are bounded by children, laughing, tickling their bellies, with bright eyes and silly sounds, everyone laughing.
Heaven is happy and earth is sad, one promise remains till our lips touch once more.
Your dark eyes, soft lips as you folded into my arms, your sweet bouquet is burned to me.
Forgive my absence of mind toward anniversary time; each day was special - onset to finish.
The old swing, standing quietly swinging to and fro as a silent memorial – I dream of you!
One day I’ll miss you no more.
Copyright © Walter Hill | Year Posted 2016
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Walter Hill Poem
In Me
The gray bird landed early morning, before coffee was done, cold greeting, functionary and efficient.
Our service done, friends are no more and others are damaged
No heroes here, just Joe’s with service done.
One foot here the other there, numb at heart.
Carousels of dreams circle round with no brass ring reward.
No path to tell the story, would you believe, who to tell.
To believe my tale, long and short, I think not.
Looking forward into black, no light to see, answer me.
Not wanting to move forward, only wanting to turn back - just one more time.
Numb at heart, spirits abound, not wanting to go down that road, stay straight, and walk the narrow.
Walking round, check here and check there, “Hay Bud ready to go home!”
Home, a distant land far off, a distant memory more than the others.
Safe, from Mr. Charlie dressed in black, my friend nor enemy to bother me.
Why me, why here, why now.
Step here, step there, a second more or less and I am no more.
Why me, why here, why now.
Push it back, straight and narrow, step forward into black.
My heart races with the first step, than the second and a third – not so hard after all.
Three suns passed since leaving the land close to down under.
Each day the task to defend or die, death was busy seven suns ago.
Another step away, another step into black, numb at heart afraid to call home.
Not long ago I looked around seeing nothing, now I see all and fright enters me.
Close the door, keep it secret, all in a day’s pay – tell no one the secrets abound.
Looking forward into black, no light to see, answer me – one step, than two….
Copyright © Walter Hill | Year Posted 2016
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