50 pounds of clothes hit the floor
car is heated up and running
His name on all camouflage apparel
dead silence. . . .
just a savory smell of sarma
Grandma’s home cooking
we’re all waiting for someone to stand up
the clock is ticking
Bosnian family
Unknown victims, cruel inhumanity
War still spreads its deadly disease,
Highly effective
Iraq, Somalia, Afghanistan,
Brother stands up,
Grandpa tears up,
A quick, “Be safe,” “I love you”
and “goodbye”
I sit and ponder
from American dream to loss of lives over gasoline
Tears build up inside of me
unable to cry,
“The one who doesn’t cry, is the one who hurts the most.”
Mom’s words echo through my head
final goodbye, and a look back
200 pound, 6’ 3 man
his one tear slides off his cheek,
universal and anonymous.
Morning rises, a
birdsong, still silent
Air Force plane flies by,
Mind flashes to 1997, Bosnia
playing tag until 9 pm
Mama screaming at us
to come inside.
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