War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

pattern of life

at the pointy end, sharp of sharp. a russian schoolhouse. rented land. rented razor wire. OP on the lip of village “X”. deep in country. hescoed. antannae’d. I climb the observation tower.

dust-watch. a truck. horizon. Afghanistan. stretched. country. I want to walk. pick yellow flowers. wade rivers. like once, another country. Spain. day on day. one foot in front of another. I climb.

I see girl-child. uncombed, unveiled. palm circled for pen, chocolate. speaking speaking something I can’t understand. she stares. at me the poet plated, helmeted gun-less in this land, an anomaly. gun-less. armed only with useless pen. my selfish pen. my luxurious pen. my privilege.

her brothers, mother, shake almond trees. beat the basil, reap the seeds for the coming year. draw water from the well. I see them. all. from my tower.

old men. beards. wheel barrow sunrise, sunset over and over again. centuries sown. reaped. the sheep slaughtered. a dull knife. an ugly death.

ceramic plates. steel helmet. ballistics. I watch from my tower.
the veiled. the walled. and inside the compound soldiers.

soldiers washing clothes at the well. soap and laughter.
the Afghans resident cooking the mutton on an open fire.

the dogs picked up.
fed and fussed over. held, petted after dark. tomorrow put off. laptop glow.

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled pattern of life. It was posted here on December 18, 2009.


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