February 16th

The thing that sucks about not being able to post blogs from your own laptop is the whole timing issue...
It seems like I posted a month ago. I am so bad at this blogging thing.

I obviously know it is no longer February 16th...so this is my way for making up for it on February 25th.

Do I need to reiterate?....

February 16th

I remember this day like it was yesterday.
The sun hid like a coward,
Denying its offer of warmth
and content disposition.

The ground sank beneath my feet
as if the souls trapped underneath
were pulling me in to join
their eternal lonely rot.

A metallic reflection caught the
corner of my eye.
A uniformed solider licked
his smooth, tan lips; then pursed them
repeatedly before covering the mouthpiece.

‘Taps’ engulfed the air surrounding the open field,
bouncing off the trees and the gravestones.
Vibrations from the trumpet ran through my body.
I couldn’t stop staring at
the Marine as he gracefully
moved his fingers between notes,
encased in a starched-white glove.

A tug at my arm caught my attention,
bringing me back to a harsh reality
I still wasn’t ready to face.
The procession began with the
ceremonious folding of your flag.
The soldiers made a mistake and started the folding over.
Made another one, and folded the flag again. Amateurs.

My eyes never left your flag as it traveled
in a stranger’s hands toward our party.
It stopped right in front of me,
an offering symbolizing a morbid truth.
If I took it, then this was the end,
the acceptance that you no longer existed.
Involuntarily my arms raised, and my hands reached out.

Ironically the weight in my hands lifted the floodgates.
The sky’s tears that fell disguised my own,
and muffled my sobs with a musical pitter-patter
against the newly varnished wood.
White roses were tossed in as a final farewell.
I kissed mine and hugged it to my chest,
before it took its plunge with you into the muddy darkness.

With the flag tucked tightly underneath my arm
a man walked toward me--who on paper was my father,
but in life—your son; to me, a foreigner.
Gesturing to the faded material placed beneath my arm pit
He said, “I thought you should have it.”
After eighteen years of backward steps
and unresolved solutions, we took our first step forward.

“Thank you” was the inaudible whisper,
but it seemed like it was shouted from the glistening tree tops.
Walking toward the vessel that would take me back
to uncertainty, I turned around for the last time and looked
to the everlasting sky. A crack of sunlight was bursting through,
illuminating the plot where we left you.
My lips quivered into a faint smile.