The Witness Of Poetry Poem by Daniel Brick

This is a verse story from somewhere
in Centeal Europe, in our time.

Wasn't there a promise made
about the Return of Happiness?
Did we not gather in a series
of circular formations for people
to meditate? And then we bonded

in a swirl of frolic and dance,
and so we ratified the promise...
I remember listening to speeches,
then half listening, and finally,
my mind numb, I stopped listening.

I had begun to think for myself.
At first, my early adulthood was
wonderful - being in love and together
building a home. Oh, our joy in Juan,
our first-born, is something I recall

at my peril. Nostalgia sharpens loss,
and Memory is cut to shreds...
Those leaders who promised prosperity
gave us poverty, taxes, conscription.
Their promises of victory, repeated

again and again, became hollow. I have been
a citizen soldier for twenty-seven years.
Our leaders say there have been six wars
in those years. All I remember is fighting
and always pressing forward on the battlefield.

To what end? There is never a clear victory
for us or them. We just keep fighting, killing
and being killed. I woke up in a field hospital
with a bandaged left arm. Volunteers from America
had come to help us survive, to heal our wounds.

A twenty-one year old nurse dressed my wounds,
then she sat by my bedsidefor hours telling
me sweet and wholesome stories about her life.
Her life reeked of privilege and wealth. She simply
did not realize how her life mocked mine.

She will return to her prosperous life
in America, and tell stories to friends
and relatives of saving badly wounded men -
so they can fight another day. But
I am stuck, trapped eye-deep in hell.

I healed slowly but steadily. I returned
to our home, and my wife fussed over me,
displayed an excess of care that came out
of her depths of love. She redeemed me.
I rejoined my family, my neighborhood,

my life stretched before me, and summoned
me to - what else - a long-postponed happiness.
I dream the same dream: I am lying helpless,
in a pool of blood. A hand stretches out.
I grasp it with both of mine, and I am pulled to safety.