ISLAND

¿A dónde fuiste mi hijo?
To the green oasis, park
In a sea of blue, turquoise
Shoals circling underneath
Passed mountains of cumulus
Suspended between reaches
Devastated by hurricanes.
On the long descent, blues
Patched with shadows
Behind, falling in control
Through white condensation
Vapor of clouds, updrafts
Hitting our underside
Having come before
But seeing differently now
Bright veils shield a season
Of intense greens, landed
Feet on the earth, melancholy
Air, nostalgic flute, malaise
Of idleness, a suffocating peace
Drawn visage of the women
Who carry the burden.
Faded cement, weather etched
Oxidized re-bar, dusty shades
Metal colors sloughed away
Long since, high rises, lives
Stacked vertically, rolls
Of windows, negatives hung
To dry, digital imaging still
Waits, troubled sleep, a dream
With my Platoon forcing
To take control of oil
A sovereign land, refusing
We shot and killed, the others
We bribed and threatened
Until they relented, waking
I was ashamed to be a citizen
Of a hypocritical nation.                     

  C) Jan G. Otterstrom June 11, 2007