We were made orphans by the war and brought here
fresh as the day's catch, stunned and open-mouthed.
Maps at the front of our classrooms had to be updated daily
as bombardments revolutionized cartography.
We liked to climb things. Nearby hills, the orphanage fences,
bunk bed ladders, walls, and each other when the explosions came too near.
We lost many things. Teddy bears. parents, barrettes, books, brothers and
sisters, homes, friends, cereal bowls, pets, and our sense of fear.
Years have passed, along with everyone we knew except each other.
Our teachers turned dead and brown like ivy from the gas.
We developed immunity and emerge now changed, arriving in towns
across our devastated country, with our steady gaze and detached manner.
We are young, beautiful in our way, outwardly unmarked and shining.
Approach us, kiss us, make plans to repopulate and recover
from the waste, carnage and horror through us, the only hope remaining.
We are as bold as bullets, jacketed, calling you pretty pigeon, townie, lover.
__________
for Sunday Muse #260
and shared with desperatepoets open link #4.
Music: Tommorrow from Annie. A favorite of mine. Yes, I'm a sap at heart.
I love your story poems Shay! They always leave the reader feeling moved or even just longing for more when they read the last line. Hope is a funny thing. Some think of it as a beautiful blessing others think it a painful curse. I think your poem kind of grasps both ends of those views. I love how you capture the loss in this through the big and also the mundane. Amazing writing as always my friend! Happy Birthday Week! Do something that makes you happy!!
ReplyDelete"Our teachers turned dead and brown like ivy from the gas."
ReplyDeleteWow. That is a line. You are truly a poetic virtuoso, Shay.
Much love,
David
SkepticsKaddish.com
Perhaps, tomorrow will be better than today! At least one can hope ~Truedessa
ReplyDeleteThere is here, as so often is true with your writing, much to be admired and savoured, and as I am doing so I am stymied, right out of nowhere. The juxtaposition of teddy bears, parents and barrettes is nuclear and sets off a wobble that ripples along the lines before and after. Stunning.
ReplyDeleteTone this with sprawling populations of war orphans in Ukraine, Haiti, Sudan, etc. and ragamuffins from the rising ocean of climate migrants: But they just provide the proper roughness of the tongue for these existential waifs of the everyday, survivors of the usual barrel-bombs of wrong who were gathered up and locked away, "fresh as the day's catch, stunned and open-mouthed." Eventually freed by "immunity" - for what else can damage children of the blast? - the world embraces these young bits, as gorgeous shrapnel, finds itself seduced by their "bold" patina. Lusting for what? A reflection of fire in their eyes? The boot shuffle and chain-rattle of ghostly inquisitioners? So many silky dangerous corners to peer into here.
ReplyDeleteNonetheless, the overall sense I get is of resilience and possibility, even hope that what has happened can be used for something worth more than the scars, a move forward. Amazing writing, Shay, as always.
ReplyDeleteHalf my comment was chopped off, Shay. It was about how rich a dish this was, and how it tasted of rue and rosemary to me. Pardon my poor phone skills.
DeleteWow. Absolutely stunning. Skimming the present, skipping off a dystopia, landing right at what feels like the beginning.
ReplyDeleteWonderful verse Shay my standout is 'we are as bold as bullets' 🙌
ReplyDeleteA brilliant glimpse of life in war-torn countries. The shiny yet detached faces stand out for me. Wonderfully written, as always.
ReplyDeleteA lady of the moment — brave and single-mindedly expedient. Love your perspective here Shay. Even at a year older… you still got it my friend! Wonderful write. 👍🏼 And have the happiest of birthdays! 🙂 Pretend each “candle” represents another wish come true. ✌🏼🫶🏼
ReplyDeleteYou have the ability to put us 'right where you want us' .. this more so than usual. A timeless story poem, sadly.
ReplyDeleteA poem “bold as bullets, jacketed” reminding us townies that we know so little of the world, of survival, and even redemption.
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely brilliant. The poem trembles with clenched, controlled power. What a vision!
ReplyDeleteBrilliant lines here (too many to quote!) and I'm loving the juxtaposition of this poem with "Tomorrow" from Annie.
ReplyDeleteYou incoorporated it all.
ReplyDeleteI just talked with a young woman who moved here and tried to find herself back again. She lost so much. She has gone through so much. And yet, there is still hope left and where it can't be found she tells herself she can do it.
This poem moved me deep. You got it!!
Happy birthday!!
I hope your new year of life will be pleasantly amazing!!
<3
First of all, Happy belated Birthday :-) Secondly, this poem exudes so much hope amid the devastation. I second all of the above comments. I love that you added an Annie song at the end, that took me back! :-D
ReplyDelete