The Wars of Men
Every weekend my dad takes my great granddad’s car for showing.
There are words here I don’t know.
My dad bruises, sorrow buried deep, he doesn’t share. Skinny boys with bombs strapped around their torsos.
My granddad’s scars hide within, jungle mayhem, Saigon falling.
My great grandad survived Bataan, barely. Skeletal body, but a poet’s soul. His words of marching and death, echo in earliest memories.
I am a girl lost in the wars of men.
8 thoughts on “The Wars of Men”
Aching and beautiful
Thank you. 🙂
Loved this. Well done!
Thank you. I appreciate your reading!
So deeply sad and well done
Thank you so much for reading, Dale!
Apt piece. Haunting and sorrowful. The poor grandfather, the Dad affected because of his Dad’s experiences, the girl affected through both of them, by what is not said. Powerful piece. Superb writing.
Thank you so much, Mandi!