Barry preferred that I minimize the photo credit so it wouldn't distract from the writing; I know he requested this out of generosity and unaffected humility. But I nonetheless laugh a little to myself at his wish, though I granted it, because the photo was the reason for the writing, and well, it's just an achingly beautiful photo. I myself can't help but be distracted and overwhelmed by it!

I am honored to pair with this photo some words, which I wrote because this image of a shining plane, full of the possibility of flight, reminded me of my favorite exhibit at the Udvar-Hazy annex to the Smithsonian Air & Space Museum: the grand dame, the Enola Gay. If ever anyone is near Dulles airport in DC, she sleeps just a few miles away and is worth a quiet visit, I think.

Thanks for reading, and thank you, Barry, for lending me and my little poem this gorgeous thing.

J

Yes, I too am a Barry Doyle fan. I have one of his photos in my living room. This was a wonderful piece, jj. A lot to think about. Something made for beauty and for freedom of flight and yet can cause such destruction..whose fault is that?

excellent, both the poem and the beautiful photograph. "our failures as stewards of ourselves" is the key, isn't it, what we did then and, in different ways, do now to prove how ill-equipped we sometimes/often are to get it right.

Hi trilogy and Candace. Thank you for coming! Given that the EG's aluminum body literally reflects my face right back at me when I see her, it's hard not to think heavy thoughts in her presence. But I confess I love her, nonetheless.

She too dies for our sins........

(*_*)

.

The little pink hazy sun in the picture is wonderful
as is your lovely poem,
The last line is perfect
a perfect ending to a perfect poem
and a perfect day
rated with love

I thought the poem lovely, truly, for the metre, the voice, but for one line: She was not made "to murder", but to save possibly one million American and British lives. At Potsdam Churchill, when told of the A-bomb by Truman, asked, would it not allow the Japanese to salvage their honor by telling them of the fate about to befall them. Truman replied, The Japanese lost their honor at Pearl Harbor. Yet, he did send the warning, three times, and thrice ignored in Tokyo. What what you and other here have done? Sent one million of your fathers to their doom. Revisionism, even in verse, doesn't cut it.

Lifting the wings of EG in perfect form... A job well done. Thank you JJ and to Barry as well for the inspiration the photo provided...

I like the idea of rehabilitating the Enola Gay, "the one that dropped the Bomb." But I'm afraid it's a thankless, and a hopeless, task.
Rated.

Your poem reminded me of the song, "Enola Gay" by the band, OMD. This techno pop song came out in the early 1980's.
R

Rated for beautiful writing about airplanes! I'm a retired air traffic controller and so miss seeing airplanes daily. I live on Lake Anna (near you) and hardly ever see them anymore.

I do remember seeing the Enola Gay before she was resurrected for the museum. She was in pieces in a military annex in Maryland. Several of us went on a tour of the place, and as I passed by parts of the Enola Gay, I touched one lightly and reflected on her awful mission.

We cannot as a society keep creating such art and then using it for evil purposes. Flight is awesome; let's find ways to use it for good purposes only. Only we can decide to divert drones from killing our fellow humans. Only we can decide to put the uranium fuel rods down forever. Only we can stop using Depleted Uranium weapons on our fellow humans. Poetry is very useful - it gets people to think about these issues. Thank you!

Poetry is not my favorite genre but this was really quite a beautiful and terrifying piece--like the Enola Gay.

This is dazzlingly acute: "She is both beautiful and cruel:
A mirror for the men who made her." The product of what we make is like ourselves inside-out. What I like here (besides gorgeous lines like "liquid skin snagging the sun") is the look beneath the surface, the seeing that meaning is seldom simple and singular, but complex and plural.

JJ, this is overwhelmingly powerful. Your words tear at the heart and the mind, the memory and nudges the fading hope that we as a people can ever get it together enuf to survive on this planet. This is sublime. I am awestruck.

Thank you all, warmly, for reading and commenting. I'm on my way out for a few hours and will give proper thanks when I return. : )

In the mean time, I just wanted to tell Badscot that your point is well taken. For what it's worth, I didn't intend to convey that the Japanese were right, the Americans were wrong, and Truman made a bad decision. I meant simply to observe that all of us-- on all sides-- were killing, and though it can certainly be debated by smarter folks than I am the extent to which each specific episode was necessary and justifiable, I intended in that particular line to make the point that killing was her last function, the last resort, subjugated by her primary function and, to me, her finest beauty. Did she kill to save? Certainly that was the intent and the effect, though it doesn't, of course, erase the fact of the killing. Could I have made a better decision than Truman? I can't even imagine being in his shoes. And I hope no one has to be in them again.

Enjoy the day, all, and again, thanks for reading.

Again, lovely and powerful. I did a long interview with the pilot, Paul Tibbets. Even as an old man he saw his role as simply doing his duty. He was tormented by the results, tormented, yet he went on to live a good and full life, but never for a day did he forget what he had wrought.. That's a brave man, and a good man.

Hi again, and please forgive me my absence. I spent the weekend first visiting the Udvar-Hazy museum again (what can I say? I felt the need to immerse...) and then traveling to Yorktown to take a lazy walk along the waterfront. It was a time of unusual disconnection from digital society for me, but good times spent. It's good to disconnect sometimes...

In any event, I wanted to thank you for coming and leaving such thoughtful comments.

skyopixie0, it is always good to see you. And yes, I am sad for her sacrifice. Would that it weren't necessary.

RP, hello! Agreed: the little pink hazy sun is perfect; I had a perfect day, that day, after seeing that photo, when writing comes easily (wish more days were like that!) and my love was nearby happy too. Hope your day is perfect for you, too...

Jim, welcome, and thank you! She's a beautiful thing, inspiring. I love that she reminds me of the beauty we are capable of. Is it silly to want to hug a plane? Probably. But I admit: I wish my arms were long enough.

BOKO, welcome, to you, too, and my thanks for coming by to comment. Thankless? Yep! I even wonder how many kids these days know who the Enola Gay is, and where she lies. Hopeless? Maybe. But I think the old girl deserves the effort.

littlewille: I remember OMD! Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark, yes? But I didn't know they wrote a song about EG. I'll have to make it part of my research! : ) Thank you for saying hello!

dragonlady, it made me smile to think of you, though I don't know you, in a tower directing the planes like an orchestra conductor. Maybe it's silly for me to romanticize it, but I can see some beauty in that job, for certain. How fascinating that you saw the Gay before she was pieced back together, and touched a bit of her. I ad no idea she had ever been so disrespected. What a shame-- though I'm surely glad she's herself again. Amazing how she gleams now in Dulles. Humans seem to have an incredible capacity for both creation and destruction; I'm not at all the first to observe that, of course, but I do find it endlessly fascinating, sad, and important. Thank you for your thoughtful comment; it was much appreciated.

Miguela, thank you! I owe your blog an overdue visit to check in on the progress of my favorite art student and professor. : )

Jerry, thank you! I'm glad to see you here. You always seem to see me well; your appreciation makes me feel that I've done at least a little bit right.

Matt, I am honored by your words and happy that you gathered hope from this. I think we can do it. We can survive. We can transcend. One little OS blog post at a time, maybe? ; )

BadScot, I think you're wrongly handled. I think of you as GoodScot. What you say about Paul Tibbets is fascinating, and inspiring. He sounds like a man who was brave enough to do what many of us (I'm thinking primarily of myself here) could not: do what duty required, without complaint, and retain his humanity while fully living out his own life, which deserved to be lived fully. Lord knows I have enough trouble living my life without any of the responsibilities Mr. Tibbets bore. If you have ever written down (or written about) your interview with him, I'd be grateful to read it. Thanks, sincerely, for your thoughtful (and thought-provoking) discussion here.

And now... more reading, less writing for me tonight. I learn more when I'm silent. ; )

Elegy for Enola Gay. What a mystique title.
I almost was afraid to read JJ-Dalton today.
Creative.
I am almost afraid to think out loud. Confused?
No. Curious.
Good morning.
My West Point Uncle Bernard died in 1948. Sad.
He was killed in a airplane on Thanksgiving Day.
I was one month young. I was there but forget it.

I showed the photo on a older post. Life/Death.
You got me read a few times. Thank bbd for me.
Give him a friendly brotherly peck on face cheek.

The farm's lazy folks go to DC three times a week.
If you and your spouse are ever bored we meet up?
There is so much to talk about. You tell a Life Story?
I don't care if you have gin in that mug. We'll chatter?
We may talk in-Laws. Maybe you share possum recipe?

The walk from the White House is about seven block away.
There's a tucked away Roman Catholic Chapel on K- Street.
Honest.
It's across the street from the famous 'gentleman's' club.
It's about two blocks from the White House. Warning. Oy!
The chapel is safe. Please never visit Archibalds for beer.
You'd be fun to listen to. During communion we'll rant.
Archibald is directly across the street from a strip club.

No go there. Beer is $9.00. Women flock there in cabs.
I do wonder if strippers in the afterlife have angel wings.
If You want to go on and on about Life is unfair I'll hear.
You have wings?

I was in conversation with my grandson (2 1/2 years old).
He thinks he can run around the farm half-naked all day.
He hates diapers and has learned how to take them off.
He fights his Mom (shoes) almost till death she departs.

I like the peck idea. Arthur never fails to delight.

I held off on commenting on this piece, it certainly moved me in many ways, not the least is your having taken inspiration and your too-kind words. I'm delighted to have played a minor role in the partnership. This was a stunning elegy, an exquisite work.

Ahh, Art, I know the place of which you dream: not the church, which must have hidden itself from me maybe willfully as I passed, but Archibald, and his sordid cousin Eddie. I went just the one time, and it was enough for my fill. I met a very nice lady there, who I think was glad for some lady company; we talked about her son in between her dancings. I told my friend, maybe next time we go to Firefly; there's a tree inside, not a pole. And so we did. I'm sure we could find a fine place to exchange rants and possum recipes. Though I rather prefer spiced applesauce cake, truth be told.

Barry, my gratitude once again for your inspiration, and your kindness. And now for your comment, too! : )

This is excellent! You should enter it in a contest. It rings true of the men that flew the plane just carrying out orders, as well.

You really know how to get your audience flying.

Susie, thank you! You gave me a wide smile. And yes, I would agree with you: I have only respect and sympathy for the men who flew her, and all who had to make the decisions they did then, all trying to do the rightest thing they could. I wonder, actually, if I should find a way to give them a nod in this poem, too. It might help round it out.

Algis: welcome, hello, pleased to meet you, and thank you. : )