I learned of D-Day from newsreels
shown in between double-features
at the Saturday morning movies
which cost a quarter
at our local theatre.
I learned of D-Day listening
at the feet of my father
hidden under the kitchen table
where Daddy spoke with buddies
who went to war with him
after years of childhood friendship.
I learned of D-Day in school
where we studied WW II,
and ignored the study of Viet-Nam,
while fellow students were drafted
to go fight a different war.
Korea was seldom mentioned
anywhere but among the men
like my cousin who survived the fight.
I learned of D-Day from movies
like OVERLORD, and later,
SAVING PRIVATE RYAN.
But, those images had already been ingrained
on the bank of memories lodged in my brain.
Images of certain death
where the words “last ditch effort”
were not mere metaphor, but a lesson to
never make war, nor allow it to cross our shore.
Today is D-Day, not in reverent remembrance,
but as a last-ditch call for the war
that we face against crony capitalism,
corruption, Putin international mobsters
posing as politicians; heads of national security,
homeland security, and even presidents.
Greed brought war within our shores.
This is our D-Day hidden inside fake news,
and Project 2025, and a budget reconciliation
package too large to read or report upon,
Too quickly pushed through by enemies
of state we call Republicans,
but who are nazis manning bunkers
called The Great Wall like the one
our fascists try to build along our southern border.
To keep brown people out? Or keep us in?
Is America becoming a giant camp
concentrating those exercising free speech,
free movement and all dissent beneath the thumb
of authoritarian diatribe and power, making us numb
and willing to cooperate with endless hate?
I honor those who once fought to save the world
and keep it free from hate and bigotry,
and create a fair economy which served us all.
I see the last ditch in my mind with no need to recall.
It lives on every street, in every neighborhood,
in every school board meeting, and City Hall;
in governor’s mansions and courts of law.
It is still alive these many years
and brings anger along with tears
burning the back of my throat
as I mourn those who breached the fascist wall
and those whose bodies I imagine afloat
off Omaha and Utah Beaches, and now, in our cities.
And I remember, as if it is today. It is. Such a pity.
annarino writes 