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Thursday, November 07, 22:52:49 [ Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 ]

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Date Posted: Sat, Dec 30 2023, 15:07:42 PST
Author: Don Poss
Author Host/IP: unn-149-50-212-23.datapacket.com / 149.50.212.23
Subject: Poem: Patrol's End (Ambush)

PATROL’S END
Ambush- PTSD
(c) 2023, by Don Poss

On patrol, and night’s point, I tread lightly amongst shadows of the past,
Dream-heart pounding as if grasping the coarse mane of a
Reinless Crazed horse

Bonded to those who follow my every move . . .
Every hand signal——
Halt!
Take Cover! or
Advance.

The squad advanced slowly, scanning dark shadows through
Canopy’s stabbing light rays——
I hand signal, Take Cover!
Something is not right.

Violent explosions erupt, men and vegetation shredded. . .
Claymores and hammering enemy fire cross-rakes the squad.
Squad’s ragged return-fire whimpers out, fading to silence.

It is over.

That Day of Ambush is upon us.
The day when we departed torn asunder or as
Drifting translucent mists.

The Other, an icy-presence, eclipsed Sol and Earth,
slow-dancing a plague-dream upon my face——
A macabre jest without hope tugs me downward

It momentarily provides relief from heat and humidity,
enticing the still-living to follow, as darkness thieves
away gasping last-breathes from mortal men.

A carousel of grief flooded my thoughts,
Wondering what happened to my brothers——
Other apparitions wisp up closer to me.

Squad’s final patrol had come to pass; our
numbered days expired. I rise alone and see my
brothers so . . . I cannot say it. Cannot think it.

A Bright light o'er my shoulder; broken bodies
jumbled nearby, drunken-bugs skating on their
pools of blood.

I turned to face the Glorious Light—far brighter than
the sun—and did not retreat from its everlasting
comfort. A comfort without sorrow.

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