Poem dedicated to James Bruchmiller, written 8-6-24.

1. That old scar in my right thumb, From when you taught me, To hold a blade, Has begun to itch And a misunderstood, scarlet god, That eld and black-haired warrior, Calls out from between eternities, And reminds me of my duty “We do whatever it takes, To get the job done,” “The mission comes first, Always and forever” These are the words, I inherited from you, And through all the noise, They still ring in my ears Despite all the years, Of pain and shame, The web of lies and rage, I am still your creation 2. Oh beloved and terrifying Grandfather, Above and below and between, We meet at the crossroads, And you always hand me a sword Wearing one uniform after another, After another, decades spent, Serving an uncaring liege, Determined to use you up Each year as the Wheel reaches its end, I call to you in love and memory, We sit together in the dark, And I reach out to hold your hand Your shade stands before me, Almost a century of toil, Of service to values beyond yourself, Etched into the blue granite of your eyes So it goes, or so you said, People live, the gods laugh, Time just keeps happening, And we have work to do
Art: Joseph Barney, “The Poor Old Soldier”, (19th century, date unknown)
