Supernova
Sand;
It clogs my nose.
It dries my mouth.
I cover my mouth with a scarf
of red, white and blue.
Special operations;
Under this discipline,
I am trained to navigate
The deserts as a lone wolf.
My mission is simple;
I am to place beacons
For air-strikes in the heart
Of enemy encampments.
Sneak in and sneak out;
Nothing could be easier
Under covers of darkness and storm
Where sand flies and strips bare all.
Covered from head to toe,
I am safe from the flurry,
And with the force of the wind
I hear naught but my thoughts.
My tunnel vision shows me
Buildings on the horizon;
Smoke rising from chimneys
Made of dirt and clay and rocks.
This is hardly the first time
I have done such a thing.
I confirmed enemies elsewhere
And torched their barracks whole.
Not a soul sees me as I
Slip between the buildings.
It takes me several minutes
But I reach the center at last.
Two men walk outside with rifles.
They are night patrols, surely.
I sneak around and silence them.
I recognize the faces from briefing.
Two Taliban members in sight,
I radio in the coordinates.
Airstrike confirmed soon
And I must make my escape.
[...] Read more
poem by William Blake Beckett
Added by Poetry Lover
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