Politics of change - 1966

Note: This new President with his Chicago friends has brought me back to places I would sooner forget.

Politics of Change December 17th 1966

To the Zealot - Humans have no worth – an object, a tool
Whose death would serve the purpose
Of some crazy whack job ideology
Anonymous, passionless
Killing for a cause
Nameless faceless corpses
Luck - destroyed the shoebox
Today no one died
A plane full of solders
Fresh for the fight
a college girl going home
Christmas break
Shaken, lived
All the way to O’Hare
hold the hand - a sobbing soldier on my right
Less than 24 hours from the gore of combat
Incapable of understanding why
A countryman tried to end his life – for an idea
Another has my left arm in a death grip
His face is ashen, teeth clenched, sweating in the cold cabin
The stewardess serves whiskey – Lots of whiskey - free
The only sedative
Non of us 21, accept the calming amber drug without a word
All done is silence - all in slow motion
Landing with a lurch
Our bags follow us
Military escort expedites all protocol
Free
A silent nod –not understanding
We scatter in the night
St Louis terminal lay in shambles.