From the Heart of a Harlem Hellfighter “For the whole entire battlefield was hell, so it was no place for any human being to be.” Horace Pippin With one arm supported by another I paint a picture, a memory of bomb holes and burned-out buildings in France. Black and gray oil on white muslin create a path of marching footsteps, broken marks on land left hollow. A scorched log points upward. A shattered roof, cracked walls, and bent barbed wire. A farm and field laid bare. No man or beast remains. God help those who cannot see this stormbound past, our soldiers’ black embedded footprints, repeated footprints, footsteps in soft clay. Judy Harding After working as a Wildlife Biologist in Boston, San Francisco, and Annapolis, Judy Harding settled in Baltimore, where she began writing poetry. She is a graduate of the Johns Hopkins MA in Writing Program. An emerging writer, her work has appeared in: Close Up: Poems on Cancer, Grief, Hope and Healing; Persimmon Tree; Plants and Poetry Journal; The Winnow Magazine.
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November 2024
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