Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Noor Mar 11
Who is the man weilding my gun
when time stops and holds its breath?
Cold hate runs in his veins—
steady, unflinching death.

Engines roar, radios chatter—
Silent! Vision, sharp and thin.
All existence is ending
the threat closing in.

Thumb pushes the safety—
click
Center mass. Steady. Hold breath.
Squeeze.

Who wore my skin?
Foe? Friend? Truly me?
Will I ever see him again—
Bold stranger, powerful-- fear free?
Noor Jul 2015
Storm clouds raged across the sky and the silver sea boiled in the wind.
The great green fin of La Isla de Tiburon cut the water,
Mysterious, so painfully close, yet dangerously distant.
Monsters swam the gap and past waist deep the ocean had a lethal tug.

All morning we (father, big brother, little sister, and me) hunted in the sand for clams and later boiled them in a sardine can.
Dad ran along the shoreline and into the waves wearing yellow trunks, hunting with a sharpened stick.
Dad, the Wildman —hairy and shirtless—ran for our entertainment into the surf and whooped when a skate flapped pitifully at the end of his spear.
My brother kicked a trio of *****, fishermen's gifts, kept them from scuttling back into sea, and leaped over them for fun.

Sardines on saltines tided us over as the main course—crab, clam and skate—cooked on burning drift wood.
We children watched in drooling anticipation as a claw, wreathed in flame rose in agonized supplication
then collapsed back into embers to cook.  Froth bubbled out alien mouths and black stalk eyes.
Roasted alive seems an awful fate, but, oh, how delicious the meat!

Later, by lantern light my sister read her book over the protests of a gathering wind that scratched at our tent all night.
The sand spat out the tent stakes, but the poles held firm and our weight held our shelter down.
Never before and never again
I live here in my dreams.
Noor Feb 2015
Red
I stand inviaible in the road.
Frozen in place.
Frozen in thought.
I have misplaced all sounds.

Soldiers pull their bleeding brother out an RG-33 vehicle
in a flowing current of hands and fingers.
gentle, urgent
They hand him off to a swarm of medics then collapse into a grieving cloud of cigarette smoke

The pants and boots—especially the boots—are coated thick with blood
so fresh, so bright
My mind defrosts, gathers a voice to shatter the silence
What a beautiful color
Noor May 2014
Our blood was too precious for them
"Take my blood," I said," A positive."  
"I can't," said the medic, "you're American.
He's Polish."

We attended all the final farewells.
The dirge was in helicopter whirls.
The Poles wouldn't bother coming to ours.
We held them at the most inconvenient hours.
You know, in the night, in the dark--like theirs.

An unlucky Polock who stepped on a mine
(ironically this might have saved 3 other lives)
contained in him the same shade of red
and judging by the mess, he was the same shade of dead
as ours.
I found his boot--it had been blown off and away.  We wore the same brand.
Noor May 2014
He was alone
Far from home
Isolated by bullets
As he bled on sand and stone

The explosion triggering the attack
Crushed vertebrae in a brother's back
A bullet tore through another's arm
The wound left a prominent scar

Through the radio, the lone voice of the isolated soldier:
"I've been shot...and it's bad."

Upon reaching the fallen, the medic knew from ****** experience
That his friend was a living corpse, dying is a process
Doc prayed he was wrong
He wasn't

Next week, next firefight
Their blood paid for our blood
Pray it meant something in the end
Noor Mar 2014
When clouds conquer the sky
The disposed Texan sun shines through in shades of grey
The air turns thick before the heavens explode

Pedestrian cars disappear from roads
Winged animals huddle in shelter
As the clouds weep sheets of warm happy tears
They make rivers of abandoned streets

Then come the children in bare feet
Blinded by heavy rain
Laughing, drinking, cheering, dancing
Lost in joy, absorbed by natural wonder

The clouds applaud in lighting and thunder
Driving the dancers indoors for warm towels
And Doritos chips, burgers, and video games
Noor Mar 2014
From up here

One slip is all it would take:
If I hit the ground I will splatter, and bones would break
As the wind buffets my body I feel alive and I grin
With death poking at me I feel joy and adrenaline
I feel joy and adrenaline
I feel joy, adrenaline
I need to do this again
I need to feel adrenaline
I need to feel
I need to do this again
Next page