Maybe Tomorrow: by Loyd Cates

Vietnam Vet Reading a Letter From Home

Perhaps the most overlooked wound of war is a broken heart. 

We all lived for the day we would return to "the world" to be reunited with our spouse or girlfriend, families and life-long friends. It motivated us, we dreamed about it, and it gave us a reason to survive.

I suspect most of us knew someone who received a "Dear John" letter during his tour. I can't imagine what goes on inside the mind of a young man whose entire world is turned upside down by a few written words from the person he lived for. 

I have often wondered what happened to these men. I suspect the majority found someone else and moved on with their lives. 

But what becomes of a man whose world was suspended many years ago, and yet he still lives? 

Maybe Tomorrow

A fragile high school yearbook 

and two fading pictures 

is all that remains. 

These are my treasures 

and most valuable possessions. 

Each day they become more cherished. 

Some would say I am approaching 

the “winter of my life”, but truthfully, 

that began the day you said goodbye. 

On the very last page of the yearbook 

is a long and lovely affirmation 

professing your love for me 

and acknowledging mine for you. 

I can recite it word for word 

yet I often read it aloud 

while pretending 

we are speaking face to face. 

My love is so intense 

I do not hear your words, 

I only delight in your presence.

I have no sense of where you are, 

what you do, or if you are content. 

I realize, I do not have the right 

to know these things, 

but my heart never asks 

for permission to wonder. 

Broken hearts are rebellious. 

As I lazily doze 

in my old threadbare chair, 

I am pleasingly disturbed 

by a waft of your sweet scent 

as it floats on a gentle breeze

outside my window. 

I recognize it without doubt 

and it is like candy to a child.

My memory whispers your name 

and my soul is comforted 

by your presence. 

Yes, it is only a dream, 

but it is mine. 

I cling to it with all I have 

and all I am.

Your image comes into focus 

and I am mesmerized. 

You are even more beautiful than yesterday. 

We touch and I am overcome 

with a serenity that warms my body 

and brings comfort to my marrow. 

My world is absolute 

and my prayers answered. 

Is it possible I am conscious? 

Is this bona fide? 

No, it is all as empty as my arms. 

I must dream harder tomorrow 

and I will.

Each day I waken 

to the Wilderness that is my heart 

and I hope, pray and sometimes mourn. 

And then I do it again tomorrow 

and tomorrow 

and tomorrow.

My need for you grows stronger each day 

but age weakens me and I often tire. 

I will continue my quest 

until my parting breath 

because I must. 

I simply must. 

If I had the opportunity 

to strike a Devil’s bargain 

I would seize it 

like a starving wolf to a bone.

After so many years, 

my thoughts debate my memory 

as to the sound of your voice, 

the softness of your skin, 

or even the sparkle in your eyes. 

I can recall the way you made me feel 

as if it was this morning, 

because it was.

Can one so old remember 

the passion of innocent love 

and youthful wonderment? 

I can, or else I am daft. 

After so many years 

and so many dreams 

I am sometimes confused. 

I will investigate no further today 

as I am tired 

and my mind is teeming 

with pleasing thoughts 

that need not be disturbed. 

And if there is another tomorrow, 

there is another dream 

and that is my deliverance 

Loyd Cates

and my salvation.

SSG Cates RVN '69-'70
199th Light Infantry Brigade


Also by Loyd Cates:

The Sport of Kings

Memorial Day: by Loyd Cates



“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


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