MY LAND OF MOUNTAINS

Dr. Yoko Fukuda Calls from the VA Every Pearl Harbor Day

“I should heed my doctor’s warnings,
She does the best with me she can.
She claims I suffer from delusions,
Yet I am so confident I am sane,
It can be no optical illusion,
Then how can you explain
The Shadows in the Rain…”

--Sting, “Shadows in the Rain”

Dr. Fukuda calls me every Pearl Harbor Day and every Memorial Day.
I’m not sure why, and I don’t know if her VA bosses know either,
Or if it is just her way of saying history holds no hard feelings
For us 21st Century fellow Americans. She seems without a shade
Of mischief. I do know her wide smile always greets me with a warm beam
Of genuine concern and healing intent with each Facetime session.
Her meds and monotone keep my compass fixed on good health,
And it’s steady as she goes, good doctor.

On the edge of I-15

The sand drifts in waves,
Snaking down the blacktop,
A trail of dust and dirt
Here in the Western lands,
Where cowboys have ruled for years,
And the hard-hitting conservative gun-toting
Men hard bitten and ready to defend freedom
And liberty at the drop of a Stetson hat.

My Land of Mountains

And desert high plains,
Where the air gives heat and love
That presses hot on your skin,
And reminds you why you came West.
For HER, for them, for your new family
And your promises
Always to take care of them
For an Eternity or more,
In the measure of Joseph Smith’s
Utah God.

Intensity

On a November afternoon in 1983,
In a pool churning with Olympians, I swam
The hardest and fastest
I ever had or would again.
The paralysis agonized me,
When I stopped for a brief five seconds
Per repeat. But oh those sweet few microns
Those happy incandescent aquamarine glassy
Moments. My spirit lifted beyond Earth,
And for just a moment, I touched God’s robe
As he stopped the second hand of the time clock
Out of Mercy for me.

Arches

In the middle of the Utah desert
Soar the famed rust-brown Arches,
The curious formations of rock
Bridges
And my new bride and I and my step son,
Climbed a harsh sweat-drenched hike
To get there.
Along the way we meet the Bishop,
Head of our local congregation.
It indeed is life elevated
And another facet of the Lord’s country,
A wondrous vista.
So glad I moved West.

A 100% service-connected disabled veteran of the USAF, Chris McClelland holds a BA and an MA in English from the University of Central Florida in Orlando. He spent seven years teaching as an adjunct professor at various colleges around central Florida, mostly teaching essay composition and creative writing. In 1999, he was a contributor to the Bread Loaf Writers Conference, where he studied with Richard Bausch and Daniel Wallace. At that time he worked as a technical writer for Siemens Westinghouse Power Corporation. He produced over 124 service bulletins for power plants and dozens of instruction manuals for German and American power generators. In 2004 he became a regular contributor to Narrative Magazine where he published his nonfiction and he worked as an assistant editor. His writing has since appeared in Harper’s, Puerto Del Sol, SwimSwam, The Military Experience, and Mid-American Review, among others. His novel, In Love and War, has been published independently to many positive reviews. Most recently, he has had poetry appear in Irreantum (Mormon lit mag), Poetry for Mental Health, and The Beatnik Cowboy. He currently lives in Orem, UT with his wife and two stepsons.