Roots, A Photograph

“You can’t hate the roots of a tree and not hate the tree.”
― Malcolm X

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Sixteen Men

My father is a poet.  He’s also a man I respect greatly and an interesting soul.  I was raised in a strict Irish/Italian Catholic AND military household.  Although, for all of our rules, it was my father who first introduced me to meditation when I was a teenager, and when he saw that I wasn’t drinking the Kool-Aid of the church, he and my mother suggested I read up on different religions as to explore all options.  They are good people and I am blessed.

He sent this poem to me yesterday

Sixteen Men
by Thomas

Sixteen men
Loved sixteen women
On sixteen nights in June

Fifteen of them
Went off to war
One drummed a different tune

Fourteen women
Cried lonely tears
Only thirteen slept that night

Twelve bullets
Whistled through the air
Eleven bodies stopped the flight

Ten men fell
Onto the ground
Only nine arose

Eight women
Felt their hearts pulled
Then seven felt repose

Six men stayed
To fight the fight
Five wanted to go home

Four women found
New lovers then
Three women felt alone

Two soldiers fell
For the last time
One drummed a different tune