Christopher Vera’s Mystic Nebula

My brother is serving faithfully in Afghanistan. He was so moved by a recent Fallen Comrade ceremony–a ceremony he has performed several times–he felt the need to write about it, and after reading it, and with his permission, I felt the need to print it.

A Sad Tradition
By Thomas David Vera II

The warriors moved slowly in the darkness
A melancholy mood was tangible in the air
slowly lining up, side by side
As far as the eye can see
Standing patiently, restlessly, still
The flashing lights slowly approach
The misty drizzle hits my face
It starts to collect like cold tears
A yell breaks the silence
The line of warriors snap to attention
Slowly arms raise to salute
My eyes drift to the eight somber faces
Accompanying the flag draped aluminum casket
Farewell my fallen comrade
The precession passes and salutes fall
The warriors disperse to go back to work
To go on living

The revolution came as all revolutions do—
with fire and promises.
The poor, minding their duties,
suffer the antics of the rich for so long.
Kick enough sand at the humblest of ants
and it will rise against you
and its brothers will rise with him.
It is too late to respect the ant
after your lands are fired.
Be as an ant.

The fundamental units of the Universe are its suns; its basic building blocks. Its galaxies are likened to cells in our bodies. Thus, its dark matter becomes flesh, unseen from inside. Its black holes are like cancer that feed oh, so slowly. Over billions and billions of billions of years. Yet its soul–yes its soul–is so human: Tragic, complex and unknowable.

Source story: Culture of Fear: Poetry Professor Becomes Terror Suspect

These days, the flag of victimhood is waved vigorously and from the top of every hill.

A leader would have seized this opportunity to educate the suspected informant, perhaps even arranged a formal meeting with the ROTC. Tell them who we are, what we do. Talk about your culture. Tell them why you love the United States. Bring some of your favorite foods (no one training for the military ever passed up a good meal!)

By reducing ignorance, we minimize fear. And we may even learn something about the culture of others in the process, making friends with people we seem to prefer to think of as enemies.

That’s what a poet would do. That’s how to carry the flag of brotherhood and quash this so-called “culture of fear”.

The Time of Monsters
By Christopher Vera

While we waste days
pounding sand,
the night terrors
dig their ghoul’s nails
into our backs,
chew handfuls of
our burning flesh.

HesaidshesaidIsaidtheysaid!

None of this
matters.
In a dark cave
under the world
they still hatch.