He tasted sea salt
Somehow feeling nothing.
Feet and legs overhead
Noise was awful.

This one, he saw
his blood.
It hurt so bad.
Then, the scream.
MAMA, HELP ME!

Another never saw
A black man
Before boot camp.
Russell, he liked him,
Was dying..

Broken and blood red
He ran to Russell
Just in time to see his
Last breath lift to heaven.

Then he fell on top
And their blood met.
Joined forever as
They left.

Nam was different
He took his last drag
From the barrel
Of his gun

Back home and safe
We turned on the TV
He clutched his radio
As they dropped him
Into hell.

He was swarmed
By angry little men.
Could he see their
Grandchildren sewing?
Could he see his nephews
Wearing T shirts
Made in Viet Nam?

This morning of fourths
So close to the end
Of it all
I lay with them
In their graves
Listening

We wait for life
Again here.
Yet we long to hear
What is going on
Above our unseen longing.

What is this we hear?
Fighting and fire.
Men in uniform Like them
Shot, blood red,
By the friendly fire
Of hate.

Black women screaming
“My life matters!!“
Russell bled on his way
To heaven.
No one questioned
That he mattered.

Another cries, “reparations!”
“For what you did
You bastard Slave masters!”
“I want the money they took.”
And comfort money can’t give.

I feel the wincing of my friends
As we lay together
In the unseen.
Dead heroes, not making
Sense if it.
We are dead. They are angry.

It seems we are
Better off dead.
We have our hope
We can rest in it.

I, uncomfortable
In the company of
Giants,
Dead but alive,
God! They aren’t
Much older than 17!

And I, 75,
Still alive
Am honored
In this moment of
waiting with them.

We are of one mind
Here in the unseen world.
We wait
We cannot scream
Anymore here.

Up there they fight
Over the past
We, down here,
We know there is hope.
They only see their
Discontent.

Jack Johnson sings
“Upside Down”
In our ears.
“Is this the way
It’s supposed to be?”