Welcome Home
the door open
pinto beans simmering
in the kettle,
thin white curtains
beckoning welcome,
he takes off his beret
and enters, knowing
his ma and pa will
fluff up the featherbed
kill the fattest fryer
he sits down
in his plush chair
vacant the long months
he’s been overseas--
when they come in
he’ll lay down the crutches
that brought him home,
rise up and walk
Elizabeth Howard lives in Crossville, Tennessee. She writes poetry and fiction. Her poems have appeared in Comstock Review, Big Muddy, Appalachian Heritage, Cold Mountain Review, Poem, Still, Mobius, Now & Then, Slant, and other journals.
Elizabeth your poem is very beautiful, although very sad, too. The portrait you paint carries such depth in the imagery it brings tears to the eyes of this reader. Your poem is what I would refer to as, bitter sweet........ Sheri
ReplyDeletebeautiful
ReplyDeleteYou have captured the heart of a wondrous soldier who's come home injured but has not lost his will to survive and thrive, plus to share his love for his family is strong. An absolute joy to read and reread.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate your comments. Bless all the wounded warriors, whoever they may be. In a figurative sense, may they all rise up and walk.
ReplyDeleteElizabeth
very thoughtful work
ReplyDeleteWhat a great piece of work! I really enjoyed it.
ReplyDeleteVery touching Elizabeth for so many wounded veterans and their families. Robert
ReplyDeleteHi Elizabeth. That is a very nice poem you penned. I really enjoyed reading it. Thank you for sharing and continued blessings!
ReplyDelete-MJ (www.tgbtgpublictions.com)