Of Peaceful Intent

for the fallen

I was in the Navy in 1968-69,

and the only action I saw was

the war games we played in the Pacific

somewhere between San Diego and Hawaii.

But I have walked many battlefields— 

like Yorktown, for example, 

Gettysburg, Little Big Horn,

and Mountain Meadows.

They are broad fields of memories,

often with their own cemeteries

of countless headstones for the known

and the unknown.

When in those places,

I have to stop walking,

stop talking,

close my eyes, 

and stand in silence.

The blood and clamor,

the wild screams of mangled bodies,

the masses of armies running headlong into

each other’s blast of cannon and gunfire, 

and the treachery and murder of men, 

women, and children at Mountain Meadows.

All anyone wished for was to survive

and go home.

Terror still inhabits the landscapes, 

protected by nature’s eternal allies.

And in the quest for redemption,

nowhere in the world is untouched.

The fallen are not to be forgotten.

When the smoke and dust settle 

and the roar in my ears quiets,

I open my eyes and everything 

remains serene and sanctified.

With quiet steps of gratitude,

I walk with peaceful intent.

From: A Preface To The Universe:

Women, Getting Older, and Other Mysteries

Unpub. MS p. 11