I wrote this poem a few years ago when I was on my last deployment. At the time I was operating in a fairly independent capacity that took me in and out of several large urban areas in the Middle East, Africa, and Southeast Asia. It was exciting work, as far as work goes. On the other hand, the best part of the military is the friendship and camaraderie. Operating independently is always much sought after, but it has its downsides.
Like many others, especially in the military, I have had the misfortune of spending a great deal of time separated from my family—time measured in years not weeks or months. My wife and I recently counted the years we have left with our children in the home. Of course they are fewer years than we would wish. And I have become jealous of them.
As it happens, I’m on the road again so this poem of separation is on my mind. Amber has always seemed a metaphor for a kind of memory. Amber is somewhat translucent so you can see things in it and through it. On the other hand, while it sometimes captures and displays life, it is immobile, hard, and unchangeable. It is perfect for preserving regrets.
There without You
I was in these cities
of coral complexity but
they were locked in the
amber of instance.
I think the amber
could have liquefied.
I think these colors
could come to life—
but I forget.
I need to forget, now, all of that.
The best work of my
memory creates
a cage of translucent brown.
Cities perfectly preserved in amber
and forever not falling down.
I’m trying not to remember;
trying that
the coral stay strange.
See, I had wanted to grow old with you.
I had wanted, together, to change.
