Q-BLOG#3, Morning has broken...

Morning has broken with a thundering boom, shaking us awake. Today is the 27th of January. Elections in Iraq will take place this weekend and the powers that be anticipate increased violence. At the DFAC (Dining Facility) CNN is on and we learn that 37 soldiers were killed yesterday. There was also a train derailment in Glendale, California, 11 were found dead so far. In trying to locate an order from a local vendor in Kuwait, we discovered that the load of merchandise was involved in an incident. The driver, a TCN (Third Country National) was killed and the merchandise was destroyed when the convoy he was in was attacked.

As I was watching the news this morning in the DFAC, a soldier, tall, handsome, more age on his face then he should have at his young age, stood in front of me adjusting his vest. His flak (armored) vest. It looked heavy. I’ve got one. I know how heavy it is. At least 40lbs. He had more than the vest though. He had rounds of ammunition all around the front of the vest. His machine gun. His helmet. His goggles. He is stopping by for some breakfast before he goes out on patrol. He is most likely the gunner on top of one of the many HUMVEE’s equipped with extra armor and an opening for a gunner on top. Maybe he is guarding or leading a convoy. I don’t know. I stared at him. Tears welling up in my eyes because the thought of this being his last meal crept into my thoughts. This breakfast. Loaded into a Styrofoam container. I looked at everyone around him. No one took notice of him. Everyone was watching the news. He paid it no mind. He adjusted his gear. Aware that he might be blocking the view of someone who wanted to watch the news, he knelt down to grab his machine gun, then put the helmet on his head. I don’t even remember him leaving. In my minds eye he is still there, making the adjustments. I can’t even imagine what his thoughts were as he stood there. Was it simply to get his food, adjust his vest, grab his machine gun, put on his helmet and without much more thought, get in his vehicle and go to “work”? It makes me think of the many times I’ve done just that. Get into my routine and not think about what I was doing, where I was going, why I was going there. In one way I can’t imagine that he did this. In another way I can’t imagine that he did anything else than that. How else could he put himself out there. It’s why he wasn’t paying attention…or trying not to pay attention to the news. It would only remind him of what his “work” was.

I find myself sitting here now, writing this and not knowing really how to feel. I’m crying a bit. I wonder what was the last meal of those 37 soldiers who died yesterday? Or those 11 people in the train derailment in Glendale? The driver of the truck that was killed trying to bring merchandise to our stores, what was his last meal? Which meal will be my last? Which meal will be your last? I’m sad for the soldier I saw in the DFAC and for all the soldiers that are here. I am sad for the driver and the people in the train derailment. I’m sad for the people I see toiling through the day for $8 in wages.

I look around and I see mud everywhere. They tell me that before we got here, the area was beautiful and green. I imagine that it looked like the area around DFW or the Trinity River after a rain. Green. Lush. That is not what it is now. It is brown. Muddy. I look out my window and there are bars there. Beyond the bars is a cement barrier about 7’ high. Protective barriers from incoming mortars. I’m confused for a moment, because in some ways it feels like a prison. I’m learning though , that as with most things in life, perspective is key. I tend to perceive the world in the way that I am feeling about myself. I’ve created many prisons for myself in the past, but this is not one of them. I’ve come here to escape. It’s a physical manifestation of my internal desire. This is not a prison. This is a sanctuary. For me, this is a sanctuary. (The voice of the Hunchback of Notre Dame comes to my head immediately!)

I have to look up….at the sky. There is beauty there. From the horizon to the place where the sun has now risen, beauty displays itself. It is a beautiful light blue running to blue and BLUE. It reminds me of a poem I wrote not too long ago and shared with my UPPER ROOM family. I thank my dear friend and artist extraordinaire, Jim Frederick for introducing me to THE UPPER ROOM and Wauketa and Terrie for sponsoring the once a month event in Frisco. It has been a place where I have felt comfortable enough to share my poetry with others. It has given me the confidence to share these things with you.

Blue blew by me.

Swimming!
Flying!
in my world of blue and
Sky and Sea...
Breathing all the blue...
I see it all
Almost absentmindedly.
A wave comes by...
A strong wind blows...
And I simply wave in on.
My life it seems,
Is filled with the scenes
that I’ve chosen before I cried.
Time flew by...
And change crept in.
The blue turned grey in
Sea and Sky...
All I learned
was polluted,
convoluted.
Trash and Oil
and 5th avenue trappings
Changed my view...
My swim...
My flapping.
I’m lost in my pit of pollution,
Looking for a better solution...
Seeking....
Looking for the blue I’ve lost...
Wanting to breathe the
Wet Blue Water...
The Clear Blue Sky...
To catch & conquer...
The deep depths of my sigh.
Singing Blue...
Crying Grey,
I’m walking and drifting another way.
Hold me fast-
Push me slow...
...but please
Don’t ever…
Let me go...


Blessings and Peace! …and LOVE…always remember to Love, especially yourself!

Robert