the paratroopers sit on hard benches
in rows upon rows in a large aircraft,
nervously awaiting their turn to deploy.
wind cuts through the open door
as man after man is called out.
each carries only his parachute
and a letter.
told never to open the letters,
nevertheless some do.
they are puzzled by what they see:
things like
"Dear Jeff,
you are everything to me."
one soldier has sat in the same place
for almost a year,
waiting for his name to be called.
he just wants to serve his purpose
so that he can go home to his family,
but every time it's the same story:
"we'd really like to use you, but it isn't time."
finally he can't take it anymore,
and glances at the sheet of paper
that's gaining dust in his pocket.
frown lines crease his forehead
because he cannot understand why his
letter only contains one word:
"forever."
Author notes
In the past I was too quick to send out the word forever onto my tongue, and he got slaughtered right away, or eventually. So I'm saving him for awhile, hoping he can be sort of patient this time.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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I'm amazed at how metaphorically complicated this poem is. Sitting here, trying to figure out truly what you mean. . . and when I do grasp some of the concept, its amazing.
I don't know how many people are going to respect this poem for what it is - but don't matter, its a good poem.
Kudos.
~thoudreamchild
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thanks so much for your comment! Glad you enjoyed it.
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