I was there

                                                                By: Jason Henke

It was the last day,                                                                              
it was the first day,                                                                                     
it was the beginning of the end,                                                                                                           
or so we thought.                                                                                               

This is where I was when that statue fell,
waiting,
wanting,
tired and hungry.

The air full and thick
the stench of death and decay was heavy;
bodies left there
bodies of the living and the dead.

There was no time for thought,
no time for fear,
no time for comfort,
there was just time enough for survival.

The lack of sleep wore gravely on my face,
eyes sunken and blood shot,
acne pock marked acrossed my expressionless facade,
lips were dry, cracked and bleeding.

Trembling from the exhaustion,
eye's stinging with the memories of better places,
unable to swallow them with a dry and parched mouth,
starvation was now driving me to keep going.

It was a dark day,
smoke thick in the sky and destruction adorn throughout;
it was a day of light,
people cheering and throwing flowers.

People crying
for gratitude
for sorrow
for things that they had to do to just stay alive.

I was an invader, I was an occupier, and I was a liberator,
I was a Knight in shinning armor, and I was Death on black wings,
I was what ever you wanted to call me,
I don't care, I was there.

Spit on me, call me a baby killer and murder, or
pin a Bronze Star on my chest
and call me a hero,
I don't care, I was there.

Love me, adore me,
distain me, ignore me,
I did my duty, I did my job,
I care, because I was there.

Greetings from Paradise:

Well now here I sit,
on the brink of War,
the tip of the blade,
ready and waiting to be unsheathed.
Mission statements have been made,
Operation orders have been given and now
we wait here in silence,
in the proverbial darkness,
waiting for word from higher.

Emotions are running high in the ranks,
moral is setting into its highest levels.
But in the shadows, everyone thinks;
where will I be next week, tomorrow,
an hour from now?
The feeling of the unknown is not only scary,
but of course feared by most,
if not by all.

We do know where they are positioned
where we're going to hit them
and with what.
My only hope is
for those common Iraqi Soldiers to surrender
so blood shed would not have to be given.

This is not for them to die for,
or defend,
we are not ruthless invaders bent on the destruction of a nation,
but for it's Freedom---
The freedom from oppression,
death,
and of fear.

We do not bring bereavement to the innocent people of Iraq,<br>we have not been told to or even trained to,
but accidents do happen.
War is not a perfect art of Black and White,
but of many shades of grey;
between two sides of opposing view.

Which side you are willing to fight for,
that's what makes me get through my day,
and sleep during the cool desert nights.

In waiting,
I wish I can say I'm happy to be here,
fighting for a country that doesn't willingly want to send its sons
and daughters
to defend it.
But is reliant on another to send theirs
to possibly die for their Freedom,
or lack there of.

Wow,
there's a word for you, Freedom.
You never appreciate it until it's taken away from you,
or abused by others around you.
I sit here now, only 8 Kilometers from the border with Iraq.
11 hours ahead of the Pacific Time Zone,
and more then 7,000 miles from home, and comfort.

Sand and dust blowing about me in the a desolate place,
with nothing to stand on but uncertainty.
That isn't freedom,
but I stay here willingly,
with my brothers and sisters in arms,
to maintain the Freedom of so many that don't grasp onto it with talons
and wings,
to soar amongst the clouds to do as they please,
to flying on the up drifts of life.

For those at home,
safe in the cradle of the United States,
I hope,
I hope that you,
that you can not ever imagine the alienation of being a soldier,
so far from home,
in a hostile land,
where your kindness goes unlooked and unappreciated,
by those you defend
both foreign
and domestic.

I don't know if it's the solitude talking,
or just random thoughts put to paper, but
we hope for peace,
my brothers and sisters, and I, but
we are very ready for War.

I say this because by the time you read this
I'll most likely be heading north,
and fast...I love you and proud of what I am doing,
Thank you.

SGT Jason Allen Henke, US ARMY       

1-30 IN, 3^rd Brigade, 3^rd IN Div (M)

Intimacy

intimacy,
a private and personal utterance or action
you
and them
you are the only two on the planet at that moment in time
it's a private and personal utterance or action

ever been in a place with no time
where everything is standing still
a place where it is you and just the moment you are in
somewhere burned in memory, but just a blip in your life
ever killed someone
that is one of those times

the most intimate act a human can have with another
is to kill them
what is more personal then that
that for which the time you take from another
there life
in there death

to know after the fact that they once had a life
grew up as a child
had goals for existing
lived a life before meeting you
and now
they no longer survive, but only in memory

what could drive another human to end another
is it rage or is it cunning
or can it be a fact of him or i
ever been faced with that truth
you
or me

how do you deal with that
do you deal with it at all
do you bury it so deep inside your mind
you forget about it
but it happened and happened a lot
at least in my case

slow motion
the grittiness of time creeping around you
burning your eyes, and engulfing your every vision
seeing them alive and breathing
and then, seeing them dead and bleeding
in black and white, and then again in full vibrant color

wreathing there on the ground if it wasn't a clean shot
peering into its surroundings
looking around at everything
or at nothing
a lost look on its face as it torments its last living moments there on the concrete
what could it be thinking

it, why call it anything else
because if you do, than it is personal
you do know it was something
or someone
they had a life
and now they don't

crimson red flowing from wounds on the neck and chest
draining more then just the color from their body
but their life as well
eyes rolling in and out of the head
looking around for anything, for anyone
what are they thinking, what could they possibly be thinking

how could this happen
why did this happen
what could i have done to prevent this
why cant it be them and not me
oh the pain
mommy

inadvertently sharing that moment in time with them
that is the longest moment in your life
being there in that final moment
looking at them at there most vulnerable
that closeness you can't share with a human
more than once

intimacy,
a private and personal utterance or action
you
and them
you are the only two on the planet at that moment in time
it is a private and personal utterance and action

--Jason Henke