Posts Tagged ‘iraq’

There is no paper here, I leave the echoes of my wounds to be whipped by showers of sand. If I could speak to you I’d tell you that I loved you. Make sure Martina knew her father was a good man. That he loved her dearly.

I’d trace it in sand.

No one would find it, no one could salvage messages washed over by time and grit.

But if I could, I’d confess that I love you.
And that I was right to leave you, right to put myself here at least and right to put bullets in people who shot bullets at me.

I may be dead now. But I wouldn’t ever be abandoned.
I may be slung over someone’s shoulder, lifeless. Someone I call brother through spat words and bloodied knuckles who carries me back lifeless and remembers sending me home in my box, always. But not abandoned,

never abandoned.

And then home.

A hero’s welcome won’t be there for me, it was just me, no-one else there. Another number.

Regret’s not there and I can’t tell you why not, another squaddie, pissed up and spouting shit to any whiff of skirt that dares to saunter past me in the pub.

Pissed off and back under rubble.

Pissed off.

Doing the job.

Doing the job that the rest of the world couldn’t understand the reality of, too quick to judge the options of,

A soldier,

In an invasion.

Another soldier,


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