<p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">作者:梦想像太阳</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">诵读:李洪瑞</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">图片:网络</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">美篇号:1353551</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">墙上影子在褪，旧风筝的竹骨</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">裹着烽火啃过的家书，蜷成1937年的弹坑</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">风过处，线头牵着硝烟</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">撞在窗棂——</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">2025年的晨雾正凝霜冰花里，</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;"><span class="ql-cursor"></span>两个年代的呼吸相抵</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">一呼一吸，交换彼此的重量</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">电视机里，《保卫黄河》正爬坡</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">震落的积灰不是尘埃</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">是战士草鞋碾过的黄土</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">顺着脚踝往骨头缝里钻</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">忽然懂了，年轮里嵌的沙砾</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">原是疼，没结痂时的模样</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">老人指腹抚过勋章的星芒</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">每道凸起，都是太行山脉的等高线</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">指缝漏的风，还带着战壕的潮</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">他按住某道刻痕的刹那</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">像按住枚未爆的雷</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">掌心那点烫，和八十年前的导火索</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">正一起颤</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">新式步枪的冷光里</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">浮着三八式的锈</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">握枪的手</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">茧子是年轮另一种写法</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">旧茧裹着弹片的记忆</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">新茧托着朝阳的暖</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">长安街的路面上，脚印叠着脚印</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">晨露晃着两代人，共有的体温</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">直升机切开云层时</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">航迹云与滇缅公路的车辙轻轻一叠</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">当年的泥还沾在机翼</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">化作雨，洇深迷彩服的针脚</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">那些纹路漫开去</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">沿着经纬长</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">女兵方阵的军靴踏响基座</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">人民英雄纪念碑的某块弹痕突然睁开眼</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">赵一曼的血</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">顺着碑身沟壑漫过来</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">漫过她们裙摆时</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">恰是红旗最艳的那一角</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">战旗猎猎里，新的星徽</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">正和放羊娃举过的红布说话</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">布角的弹片亮起来</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">成了航天燃料的火种</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">在方阵脚步声里烧啊——</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">银河轨迹，原是山梁抖落的光</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">续着长</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">战鹰拼出白鸽的当口</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">某架编号对着黄土高坡的窑洞</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">门牌号还在，家书被风掀得沙沙响</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">“胜利”二字在纸页起伏</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">像无数双眼睛在云层眨——</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">那些没来得及看和平的眼</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">正借着我们的瞳孔，望远方</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">军乐团的音符漫过广场时</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">礼号手的气浪撞在碑的铭文上</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">惊起的白鸽，翅膀拍打的节奏</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">刚好接住1945年的欢呼</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">余音里，有战士在擦缴获的步枪</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">枪托的磨痕，和受阅士兵的掌纹</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">正沿着同一道年轮，慢慢合</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">我蹲下身，指尖探进地砖的裂</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">摸到八路军绑腿的麻绳、新四军斗笠的竹筋</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">缠着列兵的鞋带</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">两种纤维拧成钢索</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">一头拴着过去的血</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">一头系着孩子们手中的纸飞机</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">奔跑的影子与受阅的方阵</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">在大地褶皱里——拼，一张完整的中国</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">风还在吹——把八十年吹成风筝线的弧度</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">一头攥在历史手里</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">一头被朝阳镀成金的缰绳</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">烽火啃过的家书，终于在窗上展平</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">字里行间走出来的人</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">和此刻的我们，在国旗下</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">站成同心圆——</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">新的年轮正往上长，每圈都裹着</span></p><p class="ql-block"><span style="font-size:22px;">旧的光，往更高处亮</span></p> <p class="ql-block"><b style="font-size:22px;">作者简介:</b></p>