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Posts Tagged ‘jungle’

Where My Father Stepped

I have known the path trodden
through forest floor dirt
where my father has stepped,
the woods in the east whose
leaves hold that warm green
golden light of summer
whose forest rivers
clear and bronze
cast down through smooth stones
cut through steep hills
and hold his best footprints,
where my father stepped and left
parts of his heart on young hearts.

I have known the tragedy
of his bravery after war,
muddy jungle rotting steps
he took far from home
to watch friends step
their last steps
to watch friends gasp
their last breaths.

I have known his last steps,
those shuffling struggling sickness steps
and the march of Marine brethren
who carried him his final steps,
those were his feet
and his feet those
marching linked by spirit
breaths the fate
some soldiers chose.

He has known my first steps in a
humbling father’s joy to see an
early life after taking lives
thanking God my guns were toys.

I know now he steps where I step,
just ahead or just behind
our earthly wrongs matter not
even though he has left
I have known where
my father stepped.

Kyle McHale 2015

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Ticking Travel

Venture to a most peaceful spot,
In city, or woods, or vast plains,
A spot to slow the inner clock,
To slow the beating of the brain.

Stop the flooding head of much,
Too much to bear, feel, and see,
All little clocks with ticking parts,
All tiny thoughts that visit me.

Nothing can work all at once,
The world with its timing,
All little greased up ticking parts,
All long roads with their winding.

That dry desert road once had all
The dreams I always tried to chase.
To get there and find them full of
Dry land, filth, and dusty waste

Let my vision pass itself
To see the green road up ahead,
Led to a rotting jungles end,
A jungle with its spirit dead.

Each road of ice, fire, and rain,
Had an end of freeze, burn, and flood,
At expense just one ticking part,
One part brain, one part drop of blood.

For blood the grease that works the ticks,
Which vision knows to change with it,
Where I let the stars and the moon
Consume my thoughts for a little bit

You may have just heard the water.
For I saw a streaking vast sky,
A place too large for all my blood,
You may have seen a fish swim by

To stare at you, to read your thoughts,
To understand the driving force,
Because complete had time to wait
To think about the one true source.

All perceptions to contemplate,
Though one part lost in each pure spot,
A piece gained from water and rock,
From thick jungle air steaming hot.

Once pulse slows down to learn something
And experience is gained,
The ticking body falls apart,
All blood bleeds out with pouring rain,

Yet peace may have flocked to the heart,
All peaceful spots become the same.
To see, to live, to think, to do,
To bleed, to die, to know what’s tame,

To feel the parts left out there,
To know they are filled by those places,
Blood has mountain jungle in it,
Peaceful things fill up those spaces.

To remember, cherish, and save,
To smile on earth, and in grave.

Kyle McHale      2009

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