Poems of War
by
Book Cover & Preview Text
Ambush Alley
I was not there! I was not there –
Not when the fight was on, we arrived
To see the 18 dead who’d been alive
That very morn…
One survivor said it was
A sinking feeling to see them fight
To see them take the fall…
No sarge, no order came, no call
But that for help – from them
Unanswered much too long
Damn Ambush Alley!
18 strong soldiers left that day
Fathers, brothers, sons… I
I stood in silence, pondering awhile
The violence of action
The military style…
It was my meager post the remains to guard
Their body-parts, the stains of victory –
My eyes refused to look, to see
Into the back of the Humvee truck
As it shadowed over me:
The mush of life, the arms, the legs
All that stuck saliva, dirt, and blood
That marched that morrow on –
On to the battle won!...
Why? – What do you mean? – Why?
It is for the DNA, so that we can
Identify who is ours and who’s not
Let the offal rot!
So I stood there guarding parts
The charred and scarred and unafraid
So that the stray dogs would not
Run away with them
So that the flies would not hatch
And maggots patch their fate – all anew
All over again… only now
It was too late for help
I was not there, true, I was not
But I saw them bleed and rot
And it was hell, as one man said
Where’s God?
Through RPG, through mortar fire
The tanks that rushed to cross the bridge
To the hit, the stranded ones –
I beseech God!
Where were you when we began to fall?
Where were you when we were hit?
I could see nothing for an hour
Nothing but blur, and growing sour
So I yelled: No more!
But who can hear you in Hell? Who?
Communication is the key…
Wait for answers before you go
You roger me?
You, you got a 20-20 hindsight now
But these (he pointed his chin at the truck)
They got their DNA waiting in line
To be analyzed!
Aye, we took the bridges, and
The next day Baghdad fell… The end?
What remains is to tell the tale –
What I can say but spell out Fear with
Limbs unattached – a capital “F”
One-eyed, distorted face – an “e”
Torsos open, emptied into an “a”
Brains smashed beyond the “r” of reason…
Black, bleak, bloody – without form
Without a substance to it all
Like this whole war!
Fear is not a myth, it is
A premonition, a form of belief
That one day I too will be
But a clot of blood for DNA…
Please, don’t analyze me, I am
A nameless soldier…
I will be okay.
Formats
Book Details
About the Book
As war rages overseas, many Americans strive to understand the pain and suffering of the courageous troops, fighting for our freedom. Poet Sarah Patricia Condor is one of these Americans, and she believes it is necessary to tell their story. She has read their letters, heard their stories, and seen their families in pain; but for Condor, the pain is much more personal.
She is a child of the Cold War. Her family members have served in every major conflict in the twentieth century, from World War I to Afghanistan. She has seen the turmoil of the distraught wife, waiting for her soldier to return, and heard stories of the homesick young men, who long to hug their mothers one last time.
Poems of War is a brash recollection of tumultuous days past. It is an ode to the heroes who seek no recognition—the ones who walk by unnoticed and unrecognized. For their sake, Condor has given them a voice in her collection of true war tales. She praises courage, reveres the brave man, and respects faith in what is good. Soldiers are no longer faceless once their stories have been told.
About the Author
Sarah Patricia Condor grew up listening to the Russian-jammed Radio Free Europe, dreaming of the freedom that so many American youth take for granted. She sought shelter in the pages of books, where she learned to free the past pains in her heart and soul through the written word.