In a timeless manner, no mind to the moment at hand, random signals are sent out ordering maneuvers and directives so that in any given second, a million pounds of sharp metal will cascade into various spaces where soft organs and fragile beating things lie.
Pounding occurs, bleeding happens. Pain ensues.
And yet on the outside, this shell, looks mostly calm.
To the naked eye, I am whole.
Any deficits in structure are not visible to someone looking in.
Only from looking out.
So if anyone asks what it's like to go to war, you can say you've been.
Only that you never left home.
yes, quite my thoughts. The same of difference:
ReplyDeletewar shaped me before I arrived.
an army legacy of burning lead and chemical retardants,
history of fear and sweating gangrene in the bush,
machines spitting brass houses with fire to barks and squelches of captains,
tunnels and sampans and midnight and fish sauce to sniff.
all of these brought my father to me - a survivor of assault, murder, blasphemy, tyranny, rape and the source: advent of the draft.
my four decades here heal the conflict that took 14 months to pre-empt my family's lifetime of health. the war without the war within is peace throughout.
Grant
Beautiful and heartbreaking Grant. Thank you :)
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