September 18th, 2017:

Maria, you were deadly to us all.

For I could now say I knew how it felt

to live on the other side of the stories.

To be the one living through the dread and constant worries,

sitting clueless while veterans took the lead,

shouting commands that seemed so foreign to me.

“Let the wind roar,” you said.

“Let the rain flood,” you said.

While all I did was pray for the terror to end.

Hearing lightning and thunder play on repeat,

and crashing sounds following the beat,

while struggling to sleep.

Wanting nothing more than only to hear the sound of your breathing,

and the steady thump of your heart beating.

Wishing for when you finally surrender,

just to be fooled with a few minutes of a moment so tender,

then back to the danger of no man’s land we enter.

“No mercy,” you said,

while we tried our best to defend.

not knowing if we’d ever see the one’s we cared for again,

or be familiar with places like before,

wanting to see the end of this tour.

Endless destruction and endless tears.

In the moment nothing else compares.

But do I actually know how it feels,

when others have gone through tougher ordeals?

It’s never wrong to say, but it’s known

that war has a legacy of its own.