5.16.12 The Truth

I think my desk is oak.  Or mahogany.  Or cherry birch?

My pen has black ink and red.  Sometimes I like to change things up.
My work is rather boring.

I have so many speeches.

So many people to convince that war is best.

I dream I am safe.  At home.  In your arms.

I sleep with the sound of bullets in my ears.  Falling debris is a constant rain.
My face is never clean.

I lie without a bed.  The sand is my pillow.  I clutch my pistol close.

I know the truth.

This breath could be my last.

5.12.12 On the Shuttle to Nowheresville

We briefed before takeoff.  Just like in training.

I had never flown before; blood pounded in my head when we lifted.

(I gripped the seat like a kid, I admit).  The cities were tiny lights lost in black.

This was it.  This is what I wanted.  To be a soldier ready to save the world.

A grand adventure.

But now we’ve landed and I see the truth.  It’s barren all around us.  A desert. 

No markings, no life.  I ask myself what exactly am I here for?

This is war, my friends.  Far from home and death my new companion.

5.30.11 Death of the Young

She sat on the sofa, holding her husband’s hand. In her other hand she clenched a tissue so hard it was turning to paper shreds. Two military men in immaculate uniforms were slowly telling her the story she had dreaded since the moment her son had told her he was joining the marines.

“His helicopter went down during the rescue operation…”

She stopped listening; she couldn’t bear to hear anymore. All she could see was the little boy with the missing teeth. The little boy who had hardly become a man was dead before he had a chance to live.

5.11.11 The Fate of Revolution

The room was a terrible mess. Papers lay strewn on the table tops and floor, others were tacked crookedly to the cracking walls. Shards of broken bottle made walking precarious; unfinished uniforms sat untended beside needles already threaded. Weapons of every kind imaginable were mixed in with the rest. Everything needed for revolution, yet nothing ever used.

The soldiers of the state stood waiting at the door, their recent accomplishments still buzzing through their heads.

“Get the torches, boys,” the captain shouted. “Burn everything to ashes, let nothing remain. No one must remember this happened.”

And so it was forgotten.