Memorial Day Salute

For a time he was a soldier. With wiry frame and James Dean good looks, he walked first into the heart of Lois Richey and then rode onto the battlefield of Korea. An iron tank was his chosen coat of arms and he commanded well just south of the DMZ. Occasionally, he weathered enemy fire while dishing out plenty of his own. Comrades in the 4th armored division called him Hank; his bride called him Sweetheart, and years later my sister and I called him Dad. His is one story among many, of men and women who sacrificed something or everything for an abstract notion known as "patriotism" or "love of country."  I think, for Henry, it was something far more tangible than that. He had attempted to enlist years before during World War II, but a temporary medical condition made him fail the physical. So, when the world's aggression turned to Korea, Hank was ready. Not eager to leave his wife behind, but driven by an inner sense of loyalty to defend what he had always known and refused to relinquish--liberty, be it ours or another people's--he exchanged oil refinery work clothes for army green and khaki. Dad didn't speak often about those days. In fact, I've learned more recently from his best friend and comrade in arms, Don, than I ever did from Dad himself. Soldiering was something he did because it was right, not something he wore around as an entitlement. Atop my shelf sits what remains physically of his service--a U.S. flag presented to my mother at his death, an officer's chevron, a gold braided cord from his uniform; but something intangible and far greater remains and will endure. His service for family, friends and country are a memorial to greatness forged in distress, and loyalty superseding personal comfort or preference. In a word, Henry Winstead Fowlkes leaves a legacy, one to salute with life and strive to emulate. Thank you Dad. 

Breathless

God's goodness leaves me breathless;

Stunned to silence by boundless grace.

Divine mercy renders me speechless;

I fall before you--

Not to ask, just to adore.

Standing small before Your greatness;

Humbled by compassion no life can exhaust.

Resting in the shadow of Your grandeur;

A heart contented by Love's perfect embrace.

God's goodness leaves me breathless;

Drawn to love like moth to flame.

Embraced by arms both strong and tender;

My life and heart belong to You forever.

Autumn Snow (By Dane W. Fowlkes)

Autumn snow of rust and earth tones,
Miniature shields glistening with sun flecked hues and shades of red.
Descending from trees tired from summer's burden,
Standing now bare against the wind.
Beautiful decay, inspiring transition,
Crisp russet carpet announcing all arrivals.
Autumn snow of rust and earth tones,
Signal for us a time of best beginning.
Love-- fresh and beautiful,
Growing and expanding,
New and promising,
Complete and endless,
Understanding and caring,
Friendship and intimacy.
Autumn snow of rust and earth tones,
Beautiful descent of artist's pallet,
Echoing the beauty of a heart made complete by the love of another.
Completed love, more beautiful than autumn snow.

Standing Alone Behind the Gate (By Dane W. Fowlkes)

Freight train gliding north by moonlight,
For many nothing more than distant dissonance
Interrupting night peace for sleeping.
But some will stop to listen and to dream,
Carried north to locations unknown and persons unmet.
Far from disturbing noise,
The clacking rhythm of northbound train conjurs music
Unheard by common ears.
Melody of longing, rhythm of hope, sad cadence of mourning--
Emotions of the freighted night.

Standing alone behind the gate
And separated from the sight and sound by years long wasted--
Longing, hoping, mourning--more profound than before,
Leaving nothing to do but nothing.
Freight train gliding north by moonlight,
Standing alone behind the gate.

What Gift Have I? (By Dane Fowlkes)

What gift have I save that
Which lies within myself?
And dare I offer when
Others give from depth of wealth?
No rose upon your desk nor
Nature’s pearls to trim your dress;
No candlelight, no wine, no night
With moon, no soft caress;
What have I save a heart reshaped
Into your likeness?
What have I save words
Of praise and hope and kindness?
What have I save thoughts
Of a man now towards you turned?
To write of eyes and voice
And smiles both memorized and learned.

What gift have I save
A heart of love;
Companioned by hope
That it will be enough.