My uncle Joe died before he was born
A phoenix that rose from the ashes
Of the struggles in his life.
He rose from the bombed-out bridge
In Vietnam
His legs pincushions of shrapnel.
As he lay in the dream smeared dirt
Covered in debris from the explosion
He felt the echo of his mother’s scream
Upon receiving notice of his death.
It was thought that there were
No survivors
But as the medics searched
Through the rubble, they found him
The one man who still had
A heartbeat.
And a month later he was home
Limping through the kitchen door
A cup of coffee in his hands.
He rose from the tarnished tiles of
The Wayne State University floor
A bloody nose and broken cane
Results of his classmates' hate
For a veteran
Scarred with government policies,
An unpopular war.
As he lay on the bruised floor
A sliver of shrapnel pierced through his skin
Inching its way out of his leg,
It fell musically to the floor
The one tear that managed to escape from his body.
He rose from the yellowed box
Outside of his apartment complex
Embracing the castoffs of college students:
A copy of Moby Dick
A VCR.
Lying on the quilt covered bed
Across from the VA hospital
He dreamed of who he could have been
What he could have done
If he was born a month later,
If the bridge wouldn’t have blown.
He rose from the faded blue
Living room chair
One cold January morning.
Elaborately carved pocket knives
And cherished copper pots
Lay on the thinning carpet
Witnesses to his life,
Reflected in his foggy glasses.
Rachel McGuinness
"Uncle Joe" won First Place in the Student Division of the 2009
Kent County Poetry Contest.