Military Poetry

Its been a long time since my last poem. Sorry about that. This weekend marks one year that this blog has been up. The poem below is in response to a challenge that Rick Weinard put to me. Although my last poem was to answer that challenge, Rick let me know that he was not satisfied, and so the challenge remained. Rick wanted me to write a poem depicting the shift from naivete of a new recruit to the understanding of a soldier in combat. Rick, I hope this suffices. Writing this poem was very different for me. I started with the end and ended with the beginning. Also, after I wrote the entire poem, I then addressed each stanza, reversing the order of each sentence (the last sentence went first, and the first sentence went last). I was actually amazed at how different the meaning was by doing so. If you have the time, try reading the poem from end to beginning.

The Uncertainty of the Moment

before death floated
in and out of him
his last images
were of biting flies
dancing in his fading breath.

the world raced forward without waiting
it was lonely to lie in sticky, red sand as
smoke, burning fuel and
distant shouts covered him
head to toe.

Fitner was blood and pieces of flesh the size of
marbles in corners impossible to reach.
the world went dark red with
flame as its horizon when the vehicle shattered
from remote detonation in a road
cleared 12 hours ago.

Fitner was so fuckin’ funny when he
imitated the platoon sergeant.
if it weren’t for Fitner
convoys would be hell on earth

he was so tired of this shit.
tired of mountains with
glowing rusty snow
painted by an ignorant sun.
he cleaned his weapon again.
thirty days and a wake-up
left of this godforsaken tour.

missions blurred his memory,
robbed him of what to feel.
his life was becoming vague and sleepless.
when his friends died or were evac’d
he was able to recall with nightmares what happened.
otherwise he counted the days.

he pulled himself into the transport parked on a boiling tarmac.
fantasies of valor and medals would not sustain him.
he no longer felt like a Hollywood hero
stumbling off the plane.
foreign smells and anger undid
his sense of purpose.
ground crews avoided eye contact.
the uncertainty of the moment surprised him.

wishing he had some hot
chick to kiss goodbye.
it would look so cool.
family hugs were embarrassing with
the unit so near
forming in rows like blunt grey-green teeth
on the basketball court.

like in the movies pop was proud, teary-eyed.
mom was silent and held on for dear life.
he just wanted to get going already
so he pushed her gently away.

it would be awesome.
he would do this for real.
he was so good at video games
knew just when to shoot.
usually got to the next level without
dying more than twice.

it couldn’t be that hard to do.

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Let me know what your thoughts are about this poem. Have a safe Memorial Day and please honor the fallen soldiers and their families who mourn and miss them. Til next time.

orn b