Sky Man

There’s a man sitting on a bench

Who has seen the back of the sky.

For three years he would ascend

And soar in the heavens

Looking down on the earth

And dropping flames on it.

Still remembers how it felt

The smell of the heat of engine

The lush green jungle below

The roar from below when his payload hit.

He doesn’t remember the screams

The way his enemy would flail as he burned to death;

He was too high above for that, too removed,

Or he just couldn’t look, couldn’t bear to.

He knew what would happen, though,

Knew what those chemicals would do to a man,

And he would see it when he sleeps.

He still does, and that’s why,

Every night,

He goes out to sit,

And be awake.