These Boots

This is a work in progress. For some odd reason-when I'm in spanish class I start scribbling about these boots-my boots-ur boots. Any suggestions are welcome-and constructive crit too!

These boots were never comfortable
and they always meant work.
I must have been crazy to want a pair
so desperately.
Little did I know-
they would change my life forever.
I loved my boots though.
Took great pride in the fabulous shine.
Tramped all over South Korea.
That sure was a good time,
yet lots of training-I was glad to leave
behind.
They've been everywhere man.
Georgia was the next stop.
These boots.
These boots are tan;
stained with the sandy dirt, sewage, and blood.
Not my blood.
That sentence makes me smile.
Not a smile energized with happiness,
rather gratefulness-for it wasn't me.
These boots have walked upon the Holy Land.
But I couldn't find anything holy about it.
These boots have become a part of me.
I have grown comfortable in these boots,
and they comfort me.
These boots carry me from place to place.
These boots have a story.
One they'll never tell.

AS

Thoughts from Philly Retreat

Here are the haikus that I had written down but never posted. Enjoy!

Standing on my box
looking at my enemy
smash the mirror please


Energy passes
from one of us to the next
as if one big breath


Love is warm and kind
thinking of you all the time
your hand rests in mine


Thanks for the healing
you have put my mind at ease
calming my bad energy


Tired of this war
tired of this fight for oil
must rally for PEACE

Help Wanted

Independently open minded,
yet highly stereotyped.
Typically loud, but keeps
secret better than anyone.
A foggy window,
yet an open book.
Independently,
lonely at times.

March Madness

And that it was! March was a tough month for me, which is why I never posted the haikus written in my notebook, nor did I write a single thing that wasn't asked of me at school. Depression, weeks of it, sleepless nights, and reclusiveness. We must learn to not hide or barracade ourselves during times like these. This, I have learned.

I have found strength within the good friends I surrounded myself with and have gotten myself the help I need to continue healing. I will definitely be posting this month.......stay tuned for future blogs! LOL

The Myth Makers

This is a little bit of the story of why I joined the military, which was the topic we Warrior Writers in Chicago decided to get into last time we met.

The myth makers do their work in the bright light of day like
Thieves creeping about in the darkness of our development
To rob us of our ability to question and
They show up in schools and cartoons and books and on waves that fly invisibly
Across the air and into our skin to tell us
Things that eventually make us want to kill

The myth makers stand us in groups as 6-year-old children
Who don’t know what “allegiance” means and make us pledge it
To a flag worthy and deserving of a proper burial while telling us
Our human classmates sometimes deserve a good punch in the nose
Instead of being taught

The myth makers are sure there is never enough time in the school year
To learn about our fathers’ war in Vietnam and
Only half the story of our grandfathers’ war in Europe and Japan
And not about the screams and why our fathers never want to talk
About their war in Vietnam and our grandfathers remain
Silent on their war in Europe and Japan

I wish I had listened more closely to my silent grandfather

some things never change, you know.

"7 years.
broken engagement,
basic training,
marriage,
baby,
pending divorce,
heart ache upon heart ache upon heart ache
it is so hard
to put 7 years into a thought let
alone these 24 and some change..."

Thoughts spill from my head with no degree of coherency. Lately I can't remember things I just said, what I am supposed to do, or what I am doing. Anger seems to come easy, though -- anger and pain. Anger at...
Lies from politicians.
Accepting to live in a framework of these lies by my fellow Americans.
The Orphans in the middle-east thanks to work we have done.
The occupation of Palestine,
how we support Israel's genocide.
Anger at my failed marriage,
Anger at being a single mom now,
Anger at making certain choices (but no regret) and
Anger at being forced into making certain choices.

Pain?
Residual.

Residue.

I went to Basic Training in 2004 for my own selfish reasons, not because i even bought into the "reasoning" for the conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan. I just didn't care.

I care now.

Reflecting on seven years.

Looking back on the Anniversary of the War in Iraq conjures up a lot of strong emotions; anger that it has continued so long, disappointed in the results of war we took part in, guilt that so much time has passed that even we think of it less, or maybe you don't think of it less and today those wounds feel as fresh as the day you were there.

Whatever your feeling about the seven years that have come and gone write about it.

Write about what has changed,

What hasn't changed,

What you think, worry, or wonder about.

Friends, write and share. Love and miss you all,

Maggie