As one who has been an anti-war activist since the '60s, I've often wrestled with the conflict that has arisen over the fact that my uncles, brothers, and husband served in the military. In this book of poems, Frances Richey deals with that conflict when she, an anti-war activist, sees her son graduate from West Point and go off to Iraq. The materials of her poetry include the trappings of a modern-day warrior, body armor, weapons, and helmets, as well as the warrior attitude that no matter how dubious the cause, if one has made a commitment to the military one honors that commitment. Balancing those trappings is the universal longing of a mother still wanting to protect an adult child long after she is able to. In fact, none of us is able to protect a grown child from the "wars" of adulthood, even though every parent aches to do so.
Every time I thought Richey was going to fall in maudlin sentimentality, she pulls the reader back from that edge with a twist that works like a kick in the gut.