Remembering April - A Poem
published by Jennifer Cole on 04/22/15 4:02pm
Posted to:
Anniversaries can be a difficult time for some. April kicks of months of painful memories and each year I feel like I relive my deployment in 2003.
Sitting at a table in a restaurant, I get a call
“Get your bags ready, you’re going.” Is all the voice says
I wonder if they are as nervous giving the news as I am hearing it
I know this was it
The last time I’ll see my neighbors,
The last time I’ll eat at a nice restaurant
My worst fear has come to fruition
I go through my bags,
Double checking each necessary item
Not knowing how long I’ll need them for
Toothbrush, check
Toothpaste, check
Wet wipes, check
Courage, well I know that’s around here somewhere
Standing in the line, I see the massive, gleaming plane
I want to run
I want to come up with some reason why I can’t go
But I know, there is no effective excuse, and I know deep down I won’t use one
I move forward, wondering if the person in front of me feels the same fear
Fear weighs me down with each step closer to the plane’s door
Standing, dazed from the jetlag, amongst the burning sands
I listen to my commander talk about our trek to someplace in Iraq
Excitement and nostalgia ring from his voice
Memories of the brave men of yesteryear gleam in his eyes
I slap a bug off my face and listen to the marines talking to my right
Where I was seemed like hell, where I was going was actually hell
Morning’s cool air brushes past my face as I swing myself up into the back of a 5-ton
I watch from the back as we cross the border from Kuwait to Iraq
The excitement of it has started to infect me
I think of how the American soldiers in Vietnam rode, like me
Into a war they were told to serve in proudly
I watch as the children ran after us, yelling in their language for food
Their fingers motioning to their mouths as they rub their bellies
Men drove in truck-loads with riffles strapped to their sides
Their eyes burning hatred through my uniform and pride
The ride ends with gut-wrenching news
A friend is dead and another is hurt
Our tears barely make it past the squelching heat before they dry on the desert earth
Some of us scream, others walk around dazed
Me? I cry and walk in a daze talking to those nearest me, then I shove it away
I shoved it all away into a footlocker until after I came home
That’s when the lock broke
