THE BROKEN SKIN / *image by Amalie Flynn*

Beatitudes I.

The Lord blessed us with knowledge. Twin curses, good and evil.
Why else plant the luscious tree there, where we were bound
to find the fruit? The purple and shivering flesh never lacks
in spirit. The ache and growl of our naked bellies are the price
for the moment’s delight. So, we gorge and the juice drips
sticky down our chins. Let angels have the eternal heaviness
of paradise; ours is the moment. The act, willful and with intent.
Advised of the penalties. Done poorly. Knowing
this kingdom cannot last. Looking beyond the gardens
for a more convincing view of heaven.

Beatitudes II.

Are we not also blessed, we who praise
PUT_the clear night and its silence?

Betrayed by the absence of stars, we mourn
PUT_a billion-years’ light no longer burning.

We whimper at the withered grass burning,
PUT_the breathing forest burning, the one
PUT_CCCCgreat and living ocean boiling and burning.

You who created time, who is before all things, who will remain after the ruin,
PUT_will you be waiting for us in the cool garden?

Will we lie down with you in the dew-damp grass?
PUT_Will we be comforted?

Beatitudes III.

Are the meek blessed tonight in their bundled and stinking shelters
PUT_beneath frozen bridges? Are they blessed with patience in their waiting
for the Lord of compassion? For the Lord that suffers with?

They suffer together. Their children will inherit the suffering
PUT_of generations,
the split lip of submission, the broken skin of the earth.

Beatitudes IV.

Blessed. From a word that meant blood.
Latin for praise. Blood and praise to the hungry; they are weak.
Blood and praise for the thirsty. For those who bathe
in fetid water.
PUT_CCCCCCWhat are words
to those who hunger in a gluttonous world?
To those who thirst beside the brackish rivers,
choking on garbage? We say, wait for righteousness
to come from above. But they have starved
in their flesh so that our spirits could be filled.

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Ben Weakley

BEN WEAKLEY SPENT FOURTEEN YEARS IN THE U.S. ARMY, BEGINNING WITH DEPLOYMENTS TO IRAQ AND AFGHANISTAN AND FINISHING AT A DESK INSIDE THE PENTAGON. HE WRITES POETRY AND ESSAYS ABOUT THE ENDURING NATURE OF WAR AND THE HUMAN EXPERIENCE. HIS FIRST COLLECTION OF POEMS, HEAT + PRESSURE IS FORTHCOMING IN NOVEMBER 2022 FROM MIDDLE WEST PRESS. BEN’S WORK APPEARS IN THE ANTHOLOGIES, "OUR BEST WAR STORIES", BY MIDDLE WEST PRESS, AND “WE WERE NOT ALONE”, BY COMMUNITY BUILDING ART WORKS. OTHER POEMS AND ARTICLES APPEAR OR ARE FORTHCOMING IN SEQUESTRUM, CUTLEAF JOURNAL, THE WRATH-BEARING TREE, AND ARMY UNIVERSITY PRESS., AMONG OTHER PUBLICATIONS. HIS AWARDS INCLUDE FIRST PLACE IN THE 2019 HEROES’ VOICES NATIONAL POETRY CONTEST, AND FINALIST IN THE 2020 COL. DARRON L. WRIGHT MEMORIAL WRITING AWARDS. TODAY, BEN LIVES IN NORTHEAST TENNESSEE WITH HIS WIFE, THEIR CHILDREN, AND A VERY MISCHIEVOUS HOUND DOG. YOU CAN READ MORE OF BEN’S WORK AT HTTPS://WWW.JBENWEAKLEY.COM/.

1 Comment

D.A. Gray says:

August 16, 2022 at 9:41 am

“The ache and growl of our naked bellies are the price
for the moment’s delight.”

“Their children will inherit the suffering
of generations,
the split lip of submission, the broken skin of the earth.”

So many strong indictments in this piece. Our comfort and what our children inherit from our comfort. A good war poem has its share of trauma and moral injury and unintended consequences. But so does a strong nature poem that deals with the mark we leave. The connections made here will stay with me.