pilots

my dad flew a plane

into the war

a fortress into the horror of hitler

but i

i never saw him in a cockpit

i saw him in a suit and wingtips

in his eyes

even so.

i saw bravery

i saw an understanding of war

he flew a wing

thirty five times into germany

and he got up everyday

when i was a child

whistling anyway

he went into the trenches

every single day

no matter where

because that is living

to educate and to ruminate against ignorance

and i saw it and him

in this way

he was a fighter till the day he died

unashamed to cry

he searched everyday for why

and every why became moments

and i memorized the best ones

to hold inside

inside my chest

to remember

to remember how he spoke my name

how he looked at my mother

dressed to go out on the town

cradling her arm in his

and that is what it is

to truly love

we must be fearless

we go to war everyday

for anyone that needs it

help

has become a foreign word

and yet oh how we need it

if we ignore our own needs

if we ignore those in need

our moments are like empty hollow bits of dust

we blow ourselves away into the holy emptiness

because sacred is you and me

whether in a cockpit

or holding someone’s hand

so on the days