Grimy hands hold my weapon tight, <br />The sun beats down upon my head, <br />I whisper a prayer, I'm ready to fight, <br />I want to rest instead. <br /> <br />My eyes are drooped, <br />My weapons like lead in my hand, <br />Burning sand under my feet, <br />...I could barely stand. <br /> <br />I struggle to blink away the sleep, <br />All I can see is a herd of sheep, <br />One boot forward, then the other, <br />We fight together, brother to brother. <br /> <br />Finally....it's time to sleep, <br />I dream about my wife, <br />Just to hear her sweet, sweet voice, <br />It cuts deep like a knife. <br /> <br />I wait on a long, hot line, <br />Ask her how she's doing, <br />She sobs, then whispers softly, <br />I'm okay....she sobs, I'm really doing fine. <br /> <br />Then a rocket breaks our calm, <br />With a tight smile drawn, the call is done, <br />I whisper, 'Babe, I gotta run'. <br />Running fast in the merciless sun. <br /> <br />After long hard hours pass, <br />I dropped down to my bed, <br />Exhausted, dirty, hot and dazed, <br />My growling stomach unfed. <br /> <br />Just a few hours later, <br />Another fight has begun, <br />Tie my boots, grab my gun, <br />Ready to fight in the morning sun. <br /> <br />Think of my wife, I try to put it aside, <br />I lay down, in the deep hot sand, <br />Lock and load, eyes are fixed, <br />Rifle in my hand. <br /> <br />No more quads, <br />No more Harley, <br />No more boat, <br />No more, 'How's it going Charlie? ' <br />No more fun fly fishing, <br />No more walking holding hands <br />No more tender kissing. <br /> <br />Iraq has taken all it can, <br />So I 'm still fighting here, <br />Doing the best I can, <br />Fighting in this hostile land.<br /><br />Philip Lore<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fighting-in-the-sands-of-iraq/
