I guess this plane is going down the hard way.
It’s funny (in its way) — I thought I’d be falling
into hysterics at the end. Instead I’m startlingly
at peace, an armistice I must have agreed to
or don’t feel like fighting against.
Grandpa was half my age when his plane
went down over a Germany taken over
by hysterics and a mad man. Imagine —
18 years old and a prisoner for 9 months.
He said he was reborn over there —
Jesus himself had delivered him
from angry mobs (recently bombed Christians
throwing rocks) Into the less murderous hands
of soldiers with swastikas and rifles.
He was blessed, he said, saved; and my Dad
came 8 years later, a blessing certainly
to my plans for birth. Am I doubly blessed then?
Or triple? The math of existence is beyond me.
Grandpa came back without his teeth
but always wore a smile. In that damn box
his smile was gone, along with his color.
His was the first dead body I ever saw. I wonder
how many people he killed? He never said
and I never asked. He lived 74 years and every day
after he got home was a blessing.
He never got on another damn airplane.
And this plane? Encountered some turbulence but
I’ll live to squander another day, cynically
smiling with incredulity as my peace is broken
by another savory rain that refuses to appreciate
the saccharine blessings flying in the face of history.
Phillip Knight Scott | © 2019
Submitted to the dVerse Poets Pub.
I joke a lot, but my Grandfather really was a hero. I am grateful to have inherited his middle name, if nothing else.
Wow amazing story. He sounds like a wonderful man. Love J
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Thanks so much – he was!
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WOW, this was really touching.
PS: hope you were able to read my Amazon review 🙂
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Thanks so much for both!!!
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My pleasure, poet friend 🙂
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Amazing story of beautiful living memories….. intricately woven in between your superb poetry…
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“Flying in the face of history” is a good way to measure present turbulence. The opening setup was a little wrought — too much sense of going down, not enough radar to the reader that the going is fraught but not imperiled. (Though who isn’t scared shirtless in turbulence?) Seque to the grandfather’s tale and its unfoldment was well done.. My dad worked the morgue at Great Lakes Naval Hospital after WWII, putting the wrap on burn victims from ships ablaze. Never sailed as far aa I know.
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I liked the remembrance of your grandfather, the recounting of all the blessings and this line: “I’ll live to squander another day”.
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This is an amazing ode / tribute to your grandfather. It reminds me that we do take so much for granted, don’t we?
Thank you for posting!
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This is a wonderful tribute to your grandfather Phillip. You told his story well; I am sure he would be proud.
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thanks so much Linda 🙂
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This is a beautiful tribute to your grandfather, Philip 🙂 I believe he’s smiling right now ❤️
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Thanks so much 🙂
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Well done! Peace in the middle of turmoil!!
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Incredible writing Phillip 🙂
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Thanks so much 🙂
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It’s amazing how close it really is, the way of the wars… which to me makes it all the more scaring…
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This is a wonderful read, chock full of amazing history……….every day WOULD be a blessing after all he went through. And I have felt that suspension of nerves during a terrible crash – it was like time slowed and I was suspended, just watching it happen. A sort of resignation takes over. Or something.
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Or something 😉
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Sounds like he lived an amazing life. I think of some of the things the people in that generation went through and count myself lucky for their bravery and sacrifices.
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A few words for a worthy young man (at the time) for your grandfather. It’s amazing what a group of men went through, most not older than him. Thank you for sharing
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Vivid recreation of character; I feel I know him.
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