On Memorial Day: To the ones that didn’t make it home and the ones who did.
My half-sister’s father was shot down over Korea. MIA to this day. My cousin from my adopted family made it home from Korea, but not totally unscathed. A friend went to Nam and I don’t know if he ever returned. A friend’s son injured in Afghanistan. I hate war. I grieve for the losses of brave hearts and the families they leave behind.
An excerpt from a poem of mine.
My sister’s father flew a plane.
A pilot, daring,
o’er Korean fields.
Shot down one day when she was three.
They never found that MIA.
She has a photo on her shelf.
All that’s left of him.
I never knew my father.
He died in the war before,
the one where other fathers flew.
Good old W W 2.
But we are all alike, alone.
Whether the tomb is lost or known.
So many are left fatherless
of what war brings everyone.