eala

A few moments each, each a trail of thought that led nowhere, but occupied my time while I waited to hand out appeasement - toys and hygiene products to women and children whose husbands and fathers are imprisoned, terrorists.



"Silver"

I never realized before just how important art was to me. For months, I've had a blank canvas and some paint brushes in my room, but everytime I tried to order paints, the company was out of stock. I occasionally spared the canvas a forlorn glance, but it was generally too painful to look at for long. On Sunday, that changed - a friend of...
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I've been having a hard time emoting since I got back to Iraq. Leave was, well, wonderful (an understatement), but now that I'm back, I just don't have words. I hear about something tragic, and think only, "hm, that sucks" in a bland sort of way; I hear about something beautiful, like my dear friend Chiquita getting married, and think, "hm, that's nice" in the...
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I wrote this on the flight from Germany back to the States. We flew at night, and the three-quarters moon, Her face raised to the heavens before us, seemed to be guiding us home. I didn't find words to describe it until just before we came to the shores, as She dipped, finally, into the waters. This is a stream of thought, written in real...
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Constellations
like scattered souls
blinking in the night,
as frozen as deer
(in headlights).

Who can see
what we've become?
Who can say
what we've measured?
Can we know
the distance of our moral
(disassociation)?

Can the shaken stars
see our patterns,
see our horrors,
make animals of
(us)?

When it all comes falling-
crumbling-slamming-down,
Who will watch us fall? -
Will they see us...
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Their faded beauties withering ,
war-torn monuments crumbling in their hearts,
and

and

and they don't know.

They don't know they could be home.
They could be loved.
They could be wanted.

If only they would choose.



If only they knew -
If only they loved -
If only they wanted -

As I want you
As I love you
As I know my home...
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I need to write.

But I can't seem to find the words. Or rather, I cannot find the emotion.

I watched a raven today, while I was waiting at the bus stop after chow. He was circling above me, with dozens of others - a murder, I think it's called, as opposed to a flock. The pattern was like an infinity symbol, only with three...
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