[Arts: Haiku] no title

[Jishin]

I don't know

I don't know

I don't care

[Jundo]

Very minimalist!

But if you did not truly care, would there be need to say "I don't care?"

Gassho, J
stlah

[Jishin]

"The Pissed-Off Corpsman"
For Jundo Cohen. In memory of Peter Jeffrey Cobb.

He wasn't your brother.
He was a file. A case. A clock ticking.

But I brought him in.
Sat beside him while you did your 30-minute dance.
Clipboard. Chair. Diagnosis.

PTSD.
Of course it was.
They gave it a name like that fixes shit.
It doesn't.

I was the pissed-off corpsman,
Dragging bodies once.
Now dragging my brother
Through clean offices
So someone — anyone —
Would say:
Yeah. This man is wreckage.
Not lazy.
Not weak.
Just… wreckage.

And you did.

One time.
One appointment.
And somehow,
You saw it.

You signed it.
You said it.
You named the thing we carried so long
It stopped feeling heavy.

So this is me
Not being poetic.
Just saying:
Thank you.
For doing your job.
For not looking away.
For that one goddamn piece of paper
That told the world:
He wasn’t lying.

That’s all.
He’s gone.
But I remember.

And so do you now.

[Jundo]

This Friday's Zazen is in dedication to Tai Shi, but we will also dedicate for your late brother, Ji.

Gassho, J
stlah

[Jishin]

"The Corpsman"
For Peter. For all of them.

A pissed corpsman,
dragging bodies,
not heroes —
just meat with names.

He doesn’t pray.
He packs the wound.
He doesn’t cry.
He cleans the blood.

Orders scream.
Shells fall.
He mutters,
“Fuck this war.”

But he stays.
Stays in mud,
in heat,
in pain not his —
until it is.

And when they ask
years later:

“Are you okay?”

He stares through them
and says,
“I was never the one who screamed.”

[Jundo]

Please watch your language even on this hard theme. I will give a little room this time because you are venting about your brother.

[Jishin]

Thank you

Jundo

just a vet

P.O’d

ji-shin

[Jishin]

Good Morning Jundo,

J is doing some work,

Poem after Poem,

Lead no

Where,

Everywhere,

but here,

Gassho, Jishin, ST (more lack on my back)