Yet two hours ago the world was pulsating with the rumors of spring
Birds chirping and bees buzzing with the appearance of new flowers The world was submerged in the infernos of new While I lie grabbing and grasping for the old The sky turned black spotted with bright yellows and whites I search the heavens desperate for the answers of the departed No visceral response has been made to my pleas Wisps of white and grey emerges and smolders as it inches from my lips The hum of morning deafens the senses as I pulled back the heavy, desert-tan canvas door. Reds and browns danced in the air with a cool breeze futile against the already blazing sun. Smells of musk and defiled grey water filled my nostrils as I embarked upon my morning trek. Lips burned as my sandpapered tongue attempted to moisten. My body ached and creaked as it was propelled forward with hopes on mental reprieve.
I sat upon a makeshift bench of rejected two by fours and cinder blocks. The only company was another red-eyed sleep deprived soldier. He stood beyond the massive grey concrete walls in his modest wooden shack. Rifle slung across his chest, one in the chamber twenty-nine in the mag. Finger gently rested on the safety, ready to slip into fire or three round burst if there was any warrant for a cause. My rifle laid on my lap with the same standards of operations always in effect. |
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