by Geminga J. Mistry
I have a secret to tell you.|
Come here, sneak up, listen -
Leave your dinners at the table
With the place missing,
Leave your children playing quietly
Under an absent loving gaze,
Leave the lawn unmowed,
The schoolwork undone,
The dishes half-washed.
Let me tell you a secret:
One day the war will be over.
And on that day, the pieces of our families
Will be reassembled like a jigsaw puzzle
(that has warped and doesn't fit quite flat)
And our children will have two parents
For a few more patchwork squares in their lives
(leaving sad, sore gaps forever tender to the touch)
The renewed backfiring of an old riding mower
Will be reassurance to us who were left behind
(and sudden memories of death to those who have returned)
A father or mother will help their child
To understand how to add fractions.
(one-fourth of their unit killed on the 22nd plus one-third sacrificed on the 25th)
The kitchen will slowly reapproach
some semblance of hygienic order
(like the cabin of a soldier after he was minced)
But still, the war will be over.
Copyright © 2007 - Geminga J. Mistry
Published: 9/13/07 · Author's Page · Next Poem