Singing Out
How big would the war
Memorial wall be
If it listed all the names
Of soldiers who died of suicide ¬–
Able, Baker, Charlie…
Jacob David George
Three tours in Afghanistan
Jeffrey Lucey
Marine vet of Iraq invasion
Theodore S. Westhusing
Col., US Army
Who wrote in Iraq
“Death before being dishonored”
I couldn’t write about
The first Vietnam vet I knew
Who killed himself –
I couldn’t write about him
I couldn’t write his obit
Because newspaper policy prohibited
Reporting suicides
I didn’t know what to do
With that—that—that—muzzling
The second vet I knew
Who killed himself
Was found with a copy
Of one of my writings
In his wallet –
We cannot protect our buddies
We cannot protect our friends
With words alone
We need to change
Our apocalyptic, hellacious
Hell-bent, death-dealing culture –
Our flag flapping, sword saluting
Sworn to secrecy
Stiff upper lip, suck it up
He-man, iron man military mindset
We need to transform
The “death before dishonor”
Code seeded in our souls –
To singing out for life,
For a lifetime
Singing out
To challenge, to change
Our dancing with death
Basic Training
I was primed to strut my stuff
In basic training –
I already knew the drill
From Boy Scout camp –
But I wasn’t prepared for
The abrupt lesson
In abandoning fallen comrades
“Listen up!” Sgt. Cutter,
Combat medic badge sparkling
On his chesty chest, shouted
One morning in formation –
“One of you dickheads slit his
Wrists last night –
Next lily-livered loser
Who wants ta slit your weak-ass wrists –
I’m handing out razor blades!”
Saving Art
Up the Hudson at the Clearwater music festival,
Hip crowds skip through rain puddles.
A thundercloud looms over the river.
A sudden gust blows art work out of our booth.
I chase pieces of Combat Paper—pieces of
Veterans’ lives—across the muddy grass.
I have to save them, before the monsoon hits.
