a day to remember
when, in childhood,
guns were made of
thumbs and index fingers
and nothing more
when the neighbor I shot
got back up
when the game was over
a day to remember
how, growing up,
I learned to control
to fight for the upper hand
for something more
how my neighbor became my enemy
how I pushed them down
how love became a word game
a day to remember
why, in the days to come,
hope will have the final say
a world open-handed
hand-in-hand
and so much more
to savor mysteries like
when love had its last supper
but still nourishes
how love reconciles
why love plays and is playful
why life is more than just a game
…………………………
memorial
day
by
troy cady
.
.
.
.
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