War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

In Memoriam Milt Wong

there you were dying, cell by cell
sitting next to me at a wedding
listening, asking, hearing, hearing,
my witness to suffering
of men, women, your countrymen
who fell, who were falling, who will fall
into the dark irises of PTSD,
you asking, asking what, what
can I do?

your wife in Chinese silk,
I, in floor length black,
in a mansion filled with beauty,
your face unlined before me
as you calculated months and minutes
remaining of your life times desire
desire not for money nor love—
you’d enough of both for a hundred lives—
no, desire to help those poor bastards
soldiers, your fellow Canadians,
who’d seen, done, been lost, maybe abandoned,
those poor bastards still fighting, forever
fighting, fighting, this war within themselves

how can I help? what can I do?
you asked through the dying glade of your body,
no blade, no chemical bombs, no peacefulness
could kill the multiplying, danger zone, still
you asked, calculated days, hours, minutes,
one more thing, one more thing I can do
for them, for all of them, just let me know,
gallant, virtue, promises, just like them,
outside and yet in,
hearing them was enough Milt,
help them all, all of them Milt,
I know you did.

in memoriam Milt Wong

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled In Memoriam Milt Wong. It was posted here on January 02, 2012.


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