We Cry For Our Own

Here is another contribution to Anne-Marie’s blog, as she writes the novel that’s been waiting to emerge from her literary womb. I chose this poem in the spirit of the day which, here in America, is now Veterans Day – originally known as Remembrance Day. And it corresponds to my own generation. This was originally posted on my blog at http://poesypluspolemics.com/

Vietnam War Memorial Wall Washington, DC
Vietnam War Memorial Wall
Washington, DC
Vietnam War Memorial Wall Washington, DC
Vietnam War Memorial Wall
Washington, DC

We Cry For Our Own

the first time
I sat on sloped grass in the dusk
near the apex and cried
full out spasms
spontaneous reflex
irrupting the middle of me
ripping long dormant grief
from my unwounded organs
depleting flat wailing
rang harsh in my voids

I’ve always been moved
by similar sites
but this delta of gabbro
calls only to mine
they were each and all mine
my own muddled half-mad generation
these cold chiseled names
who were killed in my place
stood where I could have been
stepped where I could have run
when the bullets or shrapnel
cut their lives down

these cold chiseled names
were killed in my place
leaving life and the journey to me
and in traveling it
at the apex
I cried

– Paul F. Lenzi
Poesy Plus Polemics

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Paul F. Lenzi

Retired insurance company executive. New Jersey born and bred, now enjoying the lush mountains and blissful tranquility of quaint New Hampshire. There is no theme to this blog. My poetry is eclectic. My polemics are judgmental. My prose is thoughtful. All of my writing is unschooled but emphatically heartfelt. Some of it is for fun and allows me to play with and experiment with words and ideas. Some of it vents my emotion and is therein therapeutic. All of it has the quality of subjective truth and conveys who and what I am in my depths.

11 thoughts on “We Cry For Our Own”

  1. I love the Vietnam War Memorial. I have a few awesome pictures of my time there. One is a little girl reaching to touch the wall, while looking behind her. Simply so moving to be there, and for me, to stand back and silently observe those who mourn. Wonderful work. Thanks.

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