Sam Going to Iraq

I remember you in speech class
Tall, funny, not prepared
But, thinking well on your feet
And without proper notes
You spoke to our heart.

You came to say goodbye
Smiling and casual
“No big deal” you offered
You thanked me for
Believing in you,
But you used past tense.

I sent you candy
But you asked for books
To pass the desert nights.
I sent literature, timeless
To speak to your deepest place
To shield you
From unimaginable sorrow.

When I saw the story about the bombing
Of the mess hall on the news
And imagined beautiful
Young dead, I wondered
If you’d had a chance to read
Dostoevsky
Before you went to eat.

I ran into your Dad
And he told me, through wet eyes,
How proud he was.
But he didn’t know you, the Sam
From my class who, unprepared,
Made us laugh with eloquence
And let us see inside his soul.

But, gratefully, you did come back
Intact, almost.
You were on patrol that day.
When you were back in my class,
It was good to see you, but
Now somber,
Always prepared,
Never late,
Diligent
With dull gray eyes
Which hardly looked up
And stopped me
From seeing
Deep into your heart.

Story ID:	3136
Written by:	Bill Frayer (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	Auburn Maine USA
Year:	2004
Person:	Sam