This is a poem I found on Andrew Sullivan's blog. It was written by a soldier currently serving in Iraq, who has chosen to remain anonymous, although I feel he has nothing to be ashamed of, as he has written an excellent poem. The language is rather explicit,but it captures exactly what is going on in Iraq, at least from what I can gather from news reports.
Fucker
They heard it twice; bombs do that when they crack
across the dunes, a groan chasing a clap
In the desert, where blue eyed boys in armor
listen, pink faced, to the wind and know
It's the sound of someone dying when they
see the truck all mangled on the roadside
The thin man all blown to pieces inside
and, for a heartbeat, feel, because maybe
He was just an old man, driving home but
they see the next bomb with him meant for some
Pot-hole, dead goat, trash pile, old car, young man -
deadly, they know, like their dead friends, and now
They don't shrink from saying to him, "Fucker,"
they say, "The first rule is, fucker, be sure
Where you put the last one, fucker." Laughing
without pity for him who is scattered
Bloody around the boys who die now too
because they aren't repulsed by the sight of
This thing, anymore, that they'll take home, thinking
of the day when they scolded a corpse
[Note: I in no way know the author of this poem, or have any relation to him. If he has any objections to the publication of this poem on this website, just comment on the site or e-mail me, and I will remove it. I just published it because I found it to be so moving.]
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