This poem was inspired by my stepdad’s stories about Iraq. He’s been deployed there quite a number of times (three I believe) and there are mornings when I haven’t slept yet and I see him in the living room with an entire different array of thoughts haunting him and keeping him awake. The cherry blossom tree I reference came from my scented candle burner—it’s got a peppering of cherry blossoms over it, and well, for reasons beyond reason, it somehow made its way into my mind as I made the setting for this.
Cherry blossoms singing,
Oh, voices a’ringing,
In the dead of night,
Blooming out of sight,
I can’t find them,
Though I try,
As I sing my soldier’s lullaby,
They’re quite close—I can feel it,
Can hear their whispers’ summit,
I make a left, my mind lost,
But there’s only silence here,
And a tree before me, oh, so clear,
But the scent—now, that’s unmistakable,
And the red! Oh, that’s quite regrettable,
My stomach churns,
I turn again, my lips downturned,
My eyes bring rain over this rosy day,
And I’m losing my heart—as the voices say,
“This is a dead end,
Just like the smiles of my once merry band.”
Nicholas Rinth 