Thurman P. Woodfork


Thurman P. Woodfork: The Guilt QuiltSlowly, painfully, in his mind he’s built
Something that resembles a patchwork quilt
From recollections of a distant war –
From events he was never responsible for.

He sits there with his head slightly atilt
Methodically stitching his coverlet of guilt.
As mortars chunk behind lowered eyes;
He sees tracers darting like deadly fireflies

Crisscrossing in neon-bright, laser lines
As he relives another firefight in his mind.
Curses and shrapnel fill the humid air;
Wasn’t there a song about rockets’ red glare?

Exploding mortars and small arms fire,
Thudding pulses and Charlie in the wire;
All the heart wrenching things he’s seen,
Replaying in 3 D across his mind’s screen.

He plies his needle with something like verve
Despite the angst and his jangling nerves
Hard at work, his eyes narrowed slits
He diligently constructs his blanket of guilt.