Visitations after Baghdad~

Nightly, I am haunted
like a revisited POW
by ear-splitting fire fights,
the sticky taste of hemorrhage,
the agonizing calls of the dying.

The scenes shatter my sleep,
so that I wake screaming
as I wait for Joe or Mike
to call for a damn tourniquet
or for the hand of Captain Markowski
to grab my trembling shoulder
as he asks what the hell I’m doing
crying when everyone else is
loading their rifles.

Those nights my sweaty bed
feels like a lit-up bunker,
and all I can do is crawl
to the safety of my desk,
clutch paper and pen
and write for my life…
because I am only a poet.

This poem was originally written in 2003…a reminder of the continuing tragedy of America’s invasion of Iraq and the chaos that has followed.

News Links (find out more): Al Jazeera, NPR, CNN, The Independent, Iraqi News, Washington Post

Audio Link (hear Anne read the poem): SoundCloud

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