No Man’s Land. Logan C. Jones

to do.

      If he did,

      surely it was a terrible knowledge.

      Maybe he was the only one among us

      who had the strength

      of a broken heart.

      We all deny,

      doubt,

      resist,

      flee,

      jockey for the favored position.

      We all refuse to understand.

      We all destroy and hurt.

      We all betray.

      There is nothing new here.

      I wonder if Judas

      knew what it would cost

      to complete what was

      set in motion long ago.

      But Judas answered

      the summons anyway

      and it killed him.

      Maybe it is Judas

      who sits now

      at the right hand

      of God,

      laughing.

      This night,

      I count him as friend.

      God Bless You, Mary Oliver

      after hearing “Thirst”

      Maybe it was the words,

      or your cadence, or the tone

      and timbre of your voice,

      or perhaps the gentle space you created.

      Maybe it was your impish wisdom.

      You took me to a sacred space,

      across a threshold

      to a place where I had not

      visited for a long, long time.

      You made it all so simple:

      dog, summer day, sun,

      deer, mouse, wren,

      pond, bear, God—

      even God.

      Gone and Lost the Words

      The conversation spins into a dull silence.

      I feel out of control.

      Then come all the internal messages:

      Red alert. Red alert.

      Battle stations. Battle stations.

      Dive

      Dive.

      Dive.

      Take us down, helmsman.

      Get us out of the line of fire.

      Prepare for depth charges.

      KA-WHOOOMPP. KA-WHOOOMPP.

      * * * * * * * *

      Where did I learn this?

      In the moment, I stutter.

      I squirm. I stammer.

      My throat catches.

      Nothing comes out.

      I am empty.

      Later, after the battle,

      I feel all the sadness,

      frustration, and anger.

      I feel wounded,

      shamed, and utterly defeated.

      I wondered if I am ruined beyond repair.

      When it matters most,

      I am without the words I need.

      The words do not come.

      They are lost.

      The gods mock me

      with a cruel irony

      as I die a little bit

      inside.

      * * * * * * *

      Is there any hope?

      Is there any forgiveness?

      Is there another way?

      An Inquiry into Courage

      Tell me, Spartan, about courage.

      You say it is not

      the opposite of fear.

      It is more;

      but what?

      Spartan, I have felt my sad, little fear.

      I have been embarrassed

      and shamed by it.

      There. I’ve said it.

      I’ve heard of your lines of battle,

      shields of bronze

      radiating in the sun

      and striking fear

      into marrow and sinew.

      I’ve heard of how your shield protects

      your brother who stands

      beside you.