Poetry

Poetry is my way of expressing my deepest hurt, joy or even just wonder. true, i often blur the lines, and throw romantic views around like they are candy. Still Poetry is the way i like to cope with my world. I like to hear people comment on my poetry. Of course i've never really had the heart to tell someone else they suck, for my hearing someone say, "wow. . ." it is something special. Though adoration often puts me ill at ease, i do enjoy it when people say i have touched them.

Since Iraq, however, my poetry has taken a dour mood. often forlorn, often expressing lack of hope. Some of the things i wrote in Iraq were expressing, to a nonexistant lover, the need to be saved from myself. it was how i coped with the night the rocket hit the pods. The screaming, the blood. I tried not to let it phase me, but the images, like a terrible broken reccord replayed. my therapy, writting poetry, helped clear that.

I suppose it's also important to mention the treatment of the EPW that night. Or, rather lack thereof. I walked into that bunker and saw him. The most powerful, bitter hatred swept over me. BLEED. One word, and yet, at that moment it was the onlyone that could have applied. I wanted him to bleed for my soldiers. I looked at him and i wanted to kill him. If his gaurds had not been there i would have killed him. I would have beat him to an inch of his life, and then ended it. Such hatred is something that has left it's mark on me. For the first time in my life i wasn't witness to evil, i became evil. and that is something i can never forget.

However on with the show. Enjoy this poem i wrote in Iraq, entitled "Save me"

Save Me

I think of your head hitting a soft pillow,
I imagine so many things of you.
Your smell, your walk, all the things you do,
I dream of a first kiss under a willow.

But the moans bring me back to the now,
The blood is everywhere,
Most people would be so horrified they’d stare,
I want to go to you but I don't know how.

They keep coming, screaming,
They keep bleeding,
With wounds too grotesque for reading,
My only respite is when I’m dreaming.

I dream of you and your soft face,
I dream of your soft smile,
Hoping and praying all the while,
That you'll be there when I leave this place.

How can I tell you about this?
I pray you'll hold me when the nightmares come,
Easing my anguish until I am numb,
To find salvation in your sweet kiss.

The booms fill the air, night and day.
I’m so tired I can barely move.
I feel jagged where once I was smooth,
How can people live this way?

I love you more than words can tell,
I wish I could be there now,
But I am in this place and I don't see how,
Please, my love, save me from this hell.