"A World In Turmoil"

You may surely ask -

Is this a flower in a clouded vase?

And I will say - No, it is a remembrance

of my father, sent to fight a war he could not win.



For in those days -

It was an honor to be a man

dressed in a uniform, leading the band

playing the songs of hope! - To go home again.



My memory of the church members-

Praying safety, God willing this war will end in peace;

no need for tears and a gun salute, mom weeping why?

The promise of a purple ribbon, for bravery lost in another country.



But far away, too late

he realized, a drum and a bugle

were no defence for him and his band

practicing and playing their marching songs.



Where in the distance

the swift new images -

like comets in the sky

could be seen, but not be heard,



until a deafening roar

formed a lightning flash of light,

igniting a billion stars that burned too bright

for my dad, conducting this new music in his mind.



Late at night the stars shine

on the clouded vase in my hand,

where I sit and dream of dad and the band

bold enough in mercy, and compassion for others.



Saluting the brave

playing in a green beret,

justice served without fear

as the last note floated in the air.



Fragments of a premonition

written by my father so long ago -

Crying mercy on his knees for friends;

being the poem of him in a world of turmoil.