Brother, you told me once you were scared
to have a daughter.

You knew this when you baby-sat
a baby girl with your wife,

and you, a former American Army infantryman

melted and was brought down in a way

that the guns you faced in Afghanistan never could.

She’ll be my princess, I remember you saying.

A little girl all dressed in pink,
whatever she’ll ask for, you'll give it.

You were relieved when the first child

you and your wife had was

a baby boy, but to be honest,

you melt all the same,
even 9 months later.

But I’ve always wanted to ask,
“Why are you afraid to have a daughter?”

You know the stories how our mother gave birth for the first time

and how she labored in the car
when she drove herself to the hospital.

And how your pregnant wife came home on her lunches from work

and would cry on the floor because her back hurt so bad,

But she still sat up and went back to work--

the same way our older sister cried on her first day back

from maternity leave and parted with her baby boy for the first time,

the same way Mom went back to work when you and Dad deployed.

What you know of women is that we’re strong,

that we dry our tears and continue on with the world.

Really what we do is keep the world spinning
with the force of how much we love.

So anything, you give your daughter
will be returned in multitudes.

You were taught the same way to love that I was--

instinctively and unconditionally and unrelentingly.

And maybe you’re afraid that your daughter

won’t be able to walk home alone at night

or that no one will listen to her,

And you know this is a poem from your younger sister.

So savor that I’m saying you’re not wrong,
because I don't know when that will happen again.

Your daughter may have to work harder to be heard

and to keep herself safe than any son you have.

But know no matter, how strong she is or how hard she works

that **** still happens

and it won’t be her fault.

and you know because you have two sisters

and you’ve heard our stories.

Statistics say that 1 in 3 women experience ****** or physical violence.

We have one President, who bragged on a Hollywood Access bus

about grabbing women by the *****  

because they let him

and because no one stopped him.

Brother, be scared of the men who would hurt your daughter,

but brother, don’t be scared to have a daughter,

Because she will love you the same way
your wife, your mother,

and your sisters have loved,

that our bodies may break and tear in the doing
but we will choose to do it all over again.

Sumer, Winter
shine, or rain,
Doesn't matter
its all the same.
Miles are miles.
They have nothing to say.
Littered with sweat;
Haunted by pain

Our backs are broken
Knees begin to give out
Blister upon blister;
yet none fall out
We are to tired to gripe,
so onward we  roam
into the night.

For all of our troubles;
all of our plight
Its just another day
that burdens no ones mind.
Thankless tasks
that consume our lives
If only we knew
When we signed those lines.

Birthdays,
Christmas,
Turkey dinner,
Weddings,
and funerals
replaced by miles,
burnt out bodies,
and restless hearts

For What?

We stare at other soldiers
and wonder why,
we alone
are bastardized.
After all,
does god not love the Infantry?  
Nay...
****** fools are we

It will never change.
It is
as it always will be.
A few good men
herded
straight to the butcher.
Paraded
like cattle.

Its funny though.
Given a second chance
I'd still wear my blue chord
Standing again an Infantryman.
For all of the ****,
For all of the take
I'd rather be a broken *******
than a *****.

The shafts of phosphorus hit the jagged barricades  
no sense was made from the order
seven by seven deep
flanks of men
was not a tidy sum
their exhaustion was pliable
the order cut like a  knife
by the mornings crescendo
the stark landscape exhibited
the remnants of the infantryman
was plan to observe
they had hardly set foot from base

War has never left your veins  
Infantryman you are born to fight
Yet what is a war without just cause

Determining the course of your life
Wages the battle of God's will and destiny
Against what may seem impossible

This war as already been won, verdict given
Your heart has a home in the hands of God
Let Him join it to the purpose He created it for

Destined for a solo purpose to glorify Yahewh
Show forth His power and unfathomable mercy
And proclamation of the Gospel of Jesus the Christ

In a parallel sliver of the multiverse,
infantryman Tim O' Brien
steps on a landmine near the hamlet
of My Lai in Son Tinh District,
South Vietnam and Boom!
A Great American Writer
never makes the list.

Eddie Vedder's voice is raised barely above a whisper,
He's saying his goodbyes to society,
Wishing for them the best,
But saying ultimately he didn't belong with them.

I felt like that once,
When I was embarking as a fresh faced kid,
To fulfill his dream of serving his country,
As an infantryman,
And when I arrived and as I was trained,
It felt like I was finally in my element,
With people who thought like me,
Our Drill Sergeants were the perfect example of what we could be if we applied ourselves,
Our First Sergeant; an example of what we could do if we pushed ourselves past what we were traditionally taught wasn't possible,
Our commander was the kind of individual that you whisper about,
A Captain with a very inked out past,
An old man playing a game where men tended to die young.
Walking within the vicinity of such individuals was akin of walking amongst giants.
We as recruits all started out without much confidence,
What little we did have,
Was false confidence.
These men taught us what it meant to square up and get nose to nose with a whole load of nasty with a **** eating grin on your face.
We were immortal.

I sit here alone years later,
About to start the next chapter in my life,
When it dawned on me.
We knew each other when we were immortal,
We're not immortal anymore.

Waylon Jennings is twanging over the airwaves,
Asking me if I bore witness to the events unfolding between him and the Apple of his eye.

I can hear it though,
He's got a load of chew in,
And I'm jealous.

Quitting *****,
Doesn't matter if it is good for you or not,
It just *****.

Memories come rushing back in when I smell that minty tobacco.

A "graduation gift" from our Drill Sergeants,
Just offering us some if we wanted it,
Seeing as we were no longer recruits,
But honest to god infantryman,
The jolt of nicotine directly to the mouth after 4 months of nothing,
The head buzz hit me like a sledgehammer,
But thankfully enough I'm not alone.

Another memory,
I'm trying to get the taste of bile out of my mouth, as we're dumping our gear after a long ruck,
The blood seeping through the heels of my boots,
A familiar blue tin is offered to me by my team leader,
I nod to him in thanks,
As I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

A more painful one,
The lingering taste of midrange bourbon,
Mixing in with the harsh bite of  *****,
Toasting to friends lost.

The present time gently brings me back to my chair as the song fades out.

Yes Mr. Jennings, I can see what she's doing to you,
I'm where you're at right now.

You leave your mother's home, to serve the bigger home- your motherland.
Raw, young and fiercely trained, you swim undaunted in strange waters.
The currents and inherent dangers do not deter you.
We salute your venturesome spirit and lion-heartedness.
You are courage personified.
What more to say O Courageous Man-at-arms !

Dangerous missions and risky operations beckon you.
You rush without any fear of injury or death.
To demolish the enemy and accomplish harmony.
We salute your unwavering dedication and mettlesome attitude.
You are valiance personified.
What more to say O Valiant Rifleman !

You safeguard our frontiers with your impenetrable gaze.
You suffer the deepest wounds and scars of battles.
You brave solitude, adversities, unpredictabilities and infinite toils.
We salute your unparalleled intrepidity and tenacity.
You are duty personified.
What more to say O Dutiful Cannoneer !

Your family profoundly prays for you while you are away.
Your children miss their daddy moments in their growing years .
But motherland is your first love being wedded to the olive green.
We salute your unrelenting devotion and absolute loyalty.
You are trust personified.
What more to say O Faithful Cavalier !

Coffin draped in tricolour, bugler playing 'The Last Post' is heart-wrenching.
Homecoming of a fallen warrior is so heartbreaking.
Countrymen stand by you, your stoic wife, bereaved parents and wailing children.
We salute you for your supreme sacrifice, soldiering and deeds of derring-do.
You are heroism personified.
What more to say O Honourable Infantryman !

You give your today for our tomorrow.
Forever you live up to the motto- valour and wisdom.
Your service before self is embodiment of love for motherland.
We salute you for upholding the highest moral and ethical values.
You are hope personified.
What more to say O Worthy Soldier !


(Composed by Preeti Pathak from India. Please do visit my blog preetikandpalpathak.blogspot.com)