Star Tripping

Someone thought it was a good idea
To send out into space,
A golden map of where to look
To find the human race.
On top of that it also told
In a hundred fifteen languages no less
That we are completely disunited-
A multicultural polyglot mess.
It told about our resources
In pictures, graphics, and sound.
The more I learn about this Voyager,
The more mysteries abound.
“Through adversity to the stars” it says
In Latin- English Morse code.
The adversity likely starts when THEY
Follow it back to our abode.
Sagan called this message in a bottle,
Our planet’s cosmic hope.
That in fact may well be true
Until our overlords say “Nope!”
History says that the ones who travel,
Be that upon waves or celestial seas,
Are the one who rules the others
In their colonies.
So please don’t think it an evil whim
When I say, though they may travel far,
I prefer that, rather than being found by Them,
Both Voyagers smash into a star.

Pain

Endless Road

I’m writing away

The pain tonight

About something

I can’t explain.

About a man

That tried to do

The right thing

Long ago.

His actions then

His actions now

Will never ease that pain.

I’m writing away

The pain tonight

But the mud flows

From the rain.

I’m scrubbing hard

But nothing’s loose.

It won’t remove the stain.

I can’t remove the pain.

Missing Inaction

I. Vietnam

 

“No church today, colonel.”

Said the man who rowed

Him across the river.

 

An explosion, deafening,

Even to an Infantryman.

Clapboard, pews aflame.

 

Of 4 years of combat,

This is the only story

My grandfather told.

 

One man,

One sentence,

Saved his life.

 

He walked with God

And water buffalo,

And the Vietnamese.

 

He spoke 6 tongues.

And had many names.

Grandfather. Dad. Colonel.

 

 

II. Vietnam, Basic

 

A colonel’s 2nd deployment…

His daughters dreamed

he’d be killed in action.

 

But the colonel went,

like soldiers before him,

kissed the states goodbye.

 

He refused bad orders,

saving most of his unit,

but he was killed.

 

Grandpa in tears.

Why did I tell him?

I said I was sorry.

 

He said, “We were

in basic together.

I didn’t know.”

 

His friend had died

Half a world away,

Half a century ago.

 

 

III. Japan

 

Grandpa sent his brother

In the Navy, a note,

A 1948 Japanese yen.

 

Ripped in half. Written.

The names of six men,

As lost as the other half.

 

Officers? Operatives?

Men’s faces blur. Time.

Saki-smoke-laughter.

 

No one knows where,

Why it was sent,

or who the men were.

 

Important enough

To write, to save

for 60 years.

 

 

IV. Home

 

These men were.

Missing inaction.

Solid but never still.

 

We cannot pretend

cannot convince me

one doesn’t matter.

 

One sentence.

One man lost.

One man saved.

 

When the border is gone.

And the mission is over,

Enemies, tremors defeated,

 

It’s what they built.

Third culture kids.

Bridges and bonds.

 

I am not a soldier

It’s not my story.

But nor am I separate.