Lost and Found

While cleaning out some home files I ran across this forgotten poetry gem from my military days.
Flak Rackham, the guy who wrote it, was a medic I knew while assigned to B. Company, 12th Special Forces Group (circa 1985-87); and even in a company full of eccentrics he stood out as "colorful."
It will never win a poetry award, but there’s something about “Acolytes of destiny’s Icarine conviction,” that I’ve always liked.

Icarus is Alive in Freefall

Never born with wings to fly

Picked by fate we fall

Acolytes of destiny’s Icarine conviction

Daredevils devoted

Plunging through the void

Spread-eagled sacrifice

Crashing crucifixion

Fallen angels dream they fly

This folly we will share

Spare us savior parachute

Lest you fail to function

Pluck us gently from the air

Bring us down to earth

Ecstasy’s survivors

Preserved in extreme unction

Flak Rackham

Staff Sergeant

B Co. 12th Special Forces Group

Circa 1986

Apropos. I sometimes think about the following poem by Lord Byron when I’m walking at night, feeling a little melancholy, and remember old friends and the fun we had doing FTXs.  

We’ll Go No More A-Roving

So we’ll go no more a-roving

So late into the night,

Though the heart be still as loving,

And the moon be still as bright.

For the sword outwears its sheath,

And the soul wears out the breast,

And the heart must pause to breathe,

And love itself must rest.

Though the night was made for loving,

And the day returns too soon,

Yet we’ll go no more a-roving

By the light of the moon.

Lord Byron