by Myra King
You tell them anything
they want to hear,
my mother, a nurse, says,
when I have
come of age
to know such things
I have been mother
to a hundred soldiers
holding their hands
barely knowing
their names
I strut my childhood
invincibility
tough as tanks
from my father's regiment
coffins of steel,
they and I,
closed in
release comes
only in
fragments, from
someone's
words,
unpinned
your father would have
felt nothing,
not like those poor souls
I nursed alone
while shells bloomed overhead
leaving their roses in the ground
and the papa,
I have never known,
will grow
in mind until
our ages merge
and the last candle is
blown out,
on wishes unmade.
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For all those brave nurses and all those children who did/or will grow up not knowing their fathers.
In Australia we have ANZAC day for remembrance instead of Memorial Day, but the aftermath of war is the same for any country. Lest we forget.
NB 'roses' are the patterns some bombs make in the ground after exploding.
A somber and elegant tribute. I hope this one finds a home in a newspaper or 'zine so that others can see and feel it.
Beautifully written, Myra, powerful narrative voices, heartfelt concluding stanza. Yes, it's a universal form of suffering, lest we forget, for the innocent children on both sides of the conflict, who will grow up not knowing their fathers. And the nurses attending to the wounded dying on or near the battlefield, absorbing their suffering, they certainly deserve our thanks on ANZAC and Memorial days.
Well written piece, Myra. Effective form for this.
Thanks, J,Sam, and Jack for all your comments. :-)
"while shells bloomed overhead / leaving their roses in the ground"
Love this metaphor, Myra.
Thanks Bill :-)
Great poem and memorial. Well done.
Thanks, muchly, Matthew.
It's a wonderful poem, Myra, and thought provoking. A beautiful memorial, yet it saddens the heart. The last verse brought tears to my eyes.
Fave.
Thanks, muchly, Marit.
Wow! This one hit right home. Thank you so much for writing it.
This one totally blew me away!
fav
Darryl, thank you for reading, and I'm glad you enjoyed it!
Susan, thank you so much, I'm pleased you enjoyed it.
"You tell them anything they want to hear" wonderful beginning after the pretty much give-away title.
Thanks Beate. Many nurses became 'mothers' to the soldiers in their last hours.
Such tender poem, but wish such an assured voice.