"And there's no light to see the voices by;
There is no time to ask-he knows not what."
Wilfred Owen
She held her hand our for me,
a dream I did not want to end,
her path and mine refused to cross
before the great call to arms,
I, deep within myself, knew that it
was highly unfair for her to marry a man burnt as badly
I was, for no matter how many decoration and ribbons placed upon my chest,
the flesh left over from a blast in the direction
of my hurling body,
I saved three white boys from dying,
yet, when I came to Magnolia Sweets,
I could not watch the movie shows downstairs with
the white man,
I was directed by guards to the balcony,
when I took a job mopping floors at that Richmond hospital,
they complained that my looks scared off the patients
and their families,
so I was switched to the midnight shift,
quiet,
I saw her, my first love,
holding the hands of one of those men I'd saved,
incidentally, as a matter of fact,
neither recognized me underneath a new face
the VA had given me,
passing right in front of me,
there was nothing more I could offer either
of them,
changing my mop water,
I punched out for the night,
walking into the cold Richmond air,
heading home,
riding the bus, at the back, I stood
letting the white ladies have my seat,
there are no thank yous for those of us
cursed with this hideous dress,
our only salvation
perhaps, is to realize,
that even a point blank wound
does not change the color of a man
skin,
enough to be treated like a warrior
in need of a woman who loves him
in spite of himself.
Copyright, William "Wild Bill" Taylor, June, 2003
