Seeker Magazine
Letter Poem & The Russian Foot Soldier
by Ronald L. Haun
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LETTER POEM
I have a window to look out of, blue mountains to see, clouds all puffy and white, the Irish Tenors on the dictating machine and a pretty girl to write to.
Life is Good.
I have thoughts to think, feelings to feel, fantasies running rapaciously through my soul, my love to see me through darkness, eyes that cry unexpectedly and a pretty girl to write to.
Life is Good.
Air that is fresh and clear, shadows playing over foothills laid out like naked women there for the taking, dreams heartbreakingly lovely to dream, hopes of things to come and a pretty girl to write to.
Life is Good.
I have a strong body, good mind, freckles and a sense of humor to prove I am a Wannabe Irish kind of guy, ears that have heard an angel sing, eyes that see by fairylight, and a pretty girl to write to.
Life is Good.
I have Russian Foot Soldiers Friends to sit around the campfire with me and share my thoughts, dreams, hopes, memories, fantasies and visions of this pretty, pretty girl I write to.
Life is Good.
THE RUSSIAN FOOT SOLDIER
God I love it when we are gentle with one another.
As woman is with man, as man with woman
when they have loved one another
and cared over such a long time....
and yet still they love, still they care.
You are a force in my life,
I said, then I said, though you didn't hear,
I said, you are a curative force.
What I meant was that you like me.
Simply put, you liked me then and seem too still.
Though cautious and in spite of all you have had to put up with...
you still seem to like me. That is such a healing balm.
Not just now. But was so from the beginning.
So few people of your caliber do.
I come looking for you and you are still here.
I seek you out and somehow you are still there.
I hunger for you and you are always there.
I am not a simple man, not even to myself.
That you have stuck around through all of this ...
well...my diet has become one of tears...
I lose a lot of weight this way lately...
that is tonight's wisdom from the Russian Foot Soldier...
who has arrived with his comrades...
now hunkering down in the dark around the fire --
old fashioned rifles stacked within reach as they
toss back shots of vodka as if from a water glass...
... maybe it was always the foot soldier ...
maybe that is why I always loved the great Russian novelists
...Loved them and cried so much with them.
With Natasha at her first fancy dress ball in Tolstoy's
War and Peace and lonely Anna Karenina...
poor sad Dostoeskvy...his heroes so forever lost...
this is a stupid poem...not a poem at all...
but maybe the Russian Foot Solider
...well, maybe he will come to write one for me...
God knows I can't right now.
Welcome the conqueror...welcome.....
I hope to God he keeps talking....cause otherwise this is just
a gawking diet of tears....and tuna works as well...
Photograph and Poems Copyright 2000 by Ronald L. Haun
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Letter to the Author:
Ronald L. Haun at Ronalot23@aol.com