I posted this on the new Military Community Writers page, which is a new blog for military-affiliated writers to share experiences, stories, advice, and encouragement. Active duty members, Reservists, National Guardsmen, veterans, retired service members, government employees or contractors connected to a military environment, and dependents of any of the above–all voices are welcome.
Here’s my voice for today:
When we prepared to move back to Okinawa, my kids were dealing with the all-too-frequent hardship of leaving behind their friends. I wrote this free-verse poetry, thinking of the advice I’d rather not give them, even if it applies:
Push those roots down
But not too deep
Widespread roots come up easy
Ripping away some clods of dirt
Leaving a scar on the surface
Which quickly covers over
With new grass
Deep roots don’t come up
Without violent force
Strong hands grasping,
Crushing, straining
Until everything breaks free
Deep roots leave a hole
And a damaged plant
Found a new place for you
A familiar spot to settle in
The ground is soft and moist
The air warm and damp
You’ll grow well here
So push those roots down
But not too deep.
Now, three years later, my daughter is preparing for a new life, marrying the man she loves before he goes off to Basic to join the Air Force. He arrives in a week. They leave a little over a week after that. She’s already packing and planning, excited to see him, worried about forgetting anything essential.
Didn’t I once tell you
That shallow roots were best?
That loose knots untie easier,
And the hope of what’s ahead
May even shine far brighter
Than the light we leave behind?
Well, I’m sorry, but I lied to you
Or–more truthful–to myself.
Because there’s no untangling
These roots dug in my heart.
Only forceful application
Of a weeding tool or spade
Can separate this budding rose
From all this dry-packed dirt.
And though it feels to me right now
Like no amount of time gone by
Will sweep away the scar of absence,
This I also know:
That neither shall the passing years
Diminish your past presence,
Nor steal the treasured memories
Nor smooth out laugh lines by my eyes
Nor turn the gray hairs back to brown.
And if in my heart there shall remain
The hole where once you grew and flourished,
Then know that always and forever
There’s a place for you and yours
A welcome mat laid at the door
Even if your stay is brief,
And arms extended to bring in
The luggage you now pack to leave.