“The first casualty when war comes is truth.”
-Hiram Johnson
Mind’s eye
My father fought
A war
Years before
My birth
As I grew up
I watched him
Fight it
Again and again
His sinewy hands
Trembled
As he pried apart
Venetian blinds
Scouting the enemy invasion
Of our suburban neighborhood
Armed with a bottle of juice
A newspaper
Or any other munitions
At hand
He held his ground
Paralyzed
By his reality
Bisous,
– Léa
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poetry by Constance Bourg
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A powerful poem that shows such depth and compassion, Léa.
Thank you.