[StarCMC]

 

 

Facing It
by Yusef Komunyakaa

 

My black face fades,
hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn't,
dammit: No tears.
I'm stone. I'm flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me
like a bird of prey, the profile of night
slanted against morning. I turn
this way—the stone lets me go.
I turn that way—I'm inside
the Vietnam Veterans Memorial
again, depending on the light
to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names,
half-expecting to find
my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson;
I see the booby trap's white flash.
Names shimmer on a woman's blouse
but when she walks away
the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird's
wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white vet's image floats
closer to me, then his pale eyes
look through mine. I'm a window.
He's lost his right arm
inside the stone. In the black mirror
a woman's trying to erase names:
No, she's brushing a boy's hair.

[Soaring Feather]

Facing It
by Yusef Komunyakaa


Thank You Star for posting this poem today.

[Colonel_Flagg]

Good morning, Star! Quite a selection you made this morning. How are you?

[SAMWolf]

Nice one, StarCMC

[NicknamedBob]

More Letters For The Wall

My cousin’s name is on the wall,
His smile is in my heart.
They took a lot of him away,
I kept the nicest part.

He served under our colors,
His color turned out red.
I’m sure he hardly felt the pain,
Of striping that he bled.

He heard the call of duty,
And stood to take the call.
And now he stands remembered,
In letters on the wall.

He had a lot to give us,
We’ll never know it now.
For all he had was given,
In keeping up his vow.

Some say it was a useless waste,
No need to cross the foam.
War’s desolation has a price,
To keep it far from home.

He knew the odds against him,
He took it in his stride.
His name is there upon the wall,
His smile I keep inside.

NicknamedBob . . . May 19, 2004