The first time I saw someone slit his wrists, I was on the edge of a barracks bed about three feet away from the slow ooze of dark red blood. I was an Army draftee, June 1969, nearing the end of day one of basic training. I don’t remember his name. He was a softContinue reading “Unleashing a Memory…”
When I play my guitar In the dark, The strings echo For years, Passing days never change, Outcomes of war Filled with shame The grief of it all In the rubble Of lost lives Making me play In the dark.
I stood in an alpine forest last week with the sun behind me, its light filtering through giant fir trees that formed crosses on a grove of ferns in front of me. Other people might have focused on the bright green fronds escaping the dark shadows, but I saw shadow crosses because religion, for betterContinue reading “Crosses in the Forest”