soldiers
In a cone of light
The four-year-old
Son of my son
Seriously stands
And tells of his day.
How did my mother bear it?
To wait for the terrible bell,
Bearing the final news-
No, not this time. Still wait.
And live another day.
I fold him tightly to me.
No war takes him away.
But what if someday,
How to live it out?
I understand living with the loss,
No longer living, enduring only.
I understand the soldier's days
Of terror and of boredom.
But oh, the waiting time,
How is it done?
Lari Smith
'93