War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele


a commission. talks with publishers. a PhD overseas. a collaboration on a graphic novel to be shopped around. all flooding in at the same time. and at the same time as major reorg of the personal life (chicken or egg?).

the cartoonist needs photos of my past 3 years to draw from. so this morning I sit and sort through hundreds (thousands?) of pics from early WWx to late WWx. see anew everything now I know so much more.

how long ago it all seems when I first attended the funeral north of the city, of a fallen (2008), and part way through was tapped on the shoulder by the PAFFO and told to get down to the Patricias asap for a tour of the lines. little did I know that within an hour my entire life would change when by chance I ran into the then new CO of 1PPCLI in a corridor and we immediately engaged in a discussion of leadership and poetry and he issued me the invitation to “come the whole way with us on the road to war” and I innocently said yes.

I look at those photos and sift through them for the faces of those I grew to know well. I look for signs of what was to come. did he know he’d be dead within the year? did he know he’d fall in love? did he see the ending? did he see the beginning? what triumphs. what tragedies.

did any of us know that an entire lifetime’s worth of most “normal” peoples’ experience would be condensed into a three year period of time? that there would be moments when we were more alive than alive? dead than dead? that there would be a longing to be back somewhere on that road again?

I said yes to being a witness. what I never expected. was my life to change.

1 Comment (Closed)

Alex VanderWoude

How can one see these things and not be changed? Just imagine the changes if instead of being a witness you had chosen to pick up a rifle and take the oath…

Jun 29 2011 · 12:22

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled AAR. It was posted here on June 29, 2011.


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