is a three-letter word,
sound we wish we'd never heard.
four-letter word is "flak",
B-29's come not back!
thousand miles to fly.
flak and fighters in the sky.
always anxious to "hit the sack."
some 29's come not back!
eyes and ears looking west.
crews knew they did their best;
no sight or sound in the sky;
not another dozen men to die!
they stopped for a cup of joe
that lonely Rock called Iwo.
it be that its faith we lack,
perhaps "tomorrow", they'll be back?
"tomorrow" never comes,
we strain our hearing for the hum
a long-delayed flight of 57 years;
decades of anxious tears;
waiting on Saipan and Tinian
old men with long white beards'
home", we'll say,
knew you'd return some day."
it be the Navigator made a fix
some bright star in another land,
a shiny B-29 is safe in her hardstand,
loss of a single man?
so, who is waiting for whom?
have heard that in Heaven there is room
all the B-29's and their crews.
is God's runway that they choose!
there, all the bombs are defused,
the engines, not a drop of oil they lose.
cylinder of every engine in perfect tune.
I am dreaming, don't awaken me
row on row of shiny B-29's I see!
© C. Douglas Caffey
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