Sound Bites

Sound Bites

Something is filling me, something
Like the sound of a mother
Calling her lost child
A chilling, worried sound

Men of my age
Learn to listen carefully
To the pitch of sounds filling the air
Foghorn warnings at sea

At night, lying in bed
They hear them
Creaking like an abandoned ship’s hull
Swaying on a coral reef

And deep in slumber
They listen again
To the boy’s voice begging his father
To toss the ball one more time

And the father’s gentle reply
That a storm is on the dark horizon
Disappoints and terminates the dream
While sirens scream outside the window

They hear them
Through the chest, like drumbeats
On the Bataan Death March,
Every beat closer to the end of the line.

They hear them in the ear; in the air
Voices of dead fathers and grandfathers
Resonate through nature’s audio system
The grass, the trees, the sky, the blood.