Alexandra Culp

Poem lovingly dedicated to SGT Joseph Nolan (d. Nov.18th 2004 - Fallujah)MY HEART WEEPS FOR THEE

As the mortars drop
I wonder, will it ever stop
As the RPG’s fly by
I wonder, why

Why am I watching young mothers crying
Why am I watching their children dying
Fighting, rioting, pleading, stealing.

At home the masses forget we’re here
As they gather in their separate forums to cheer
Their chosen candidate.

Out families keep us in their hearts and minds
Politicians use us to their own designs
On their march to the White House.

Our path seemed so clear
When we first arrived here
To help Iraq get its balance back.

1st Cav, the Army’s “saving grace”
Here to regain pride and save face
In light of recent scandal and confusion.

Uncertainty abounds
IED’s constantly found
Along highways and hidden in garbage trucks.

Taking our boys left and right
We still find the will, the strength to fight
The evil that men do.

2nd BCT, 11 months in
Ready to throw the towel in
As the Brigade is spread thin across Central Iraq.

Our resources running low
Restock, when, we don’t know
Budget’s tight, supply lines under attack.

Tension builds on the FOBs, and those at the gates
Stand helpless by concrete walls and, with fear, wait
To see if today’s rumors of an attack are true.

Morale running on fumes
In the barracks, 3 and 4 to all rooms
Privacy a forgotten dream.

AAFES doing its part to amuse
Keeping us abreast of all the latest celebrity news
Stocking beanie babies and satellite dishes on its shelves.

To keep our addiction to fast food healthy
Burger and Subway more wealthy
Double and triple stacking slow death on fresh buns.

Relationships everywhere crumbling
Spouses here and at home wondering
If their husbands and wives have stayed true.

Their children are growing
By leaps and bounds, never knowing
Why did my daddy have to leave?

Hotmail and Yahoo! accounts multiply
Internet romances intensify
As soldiers search for their escape.

Now I sit quietly in my chair
Headphones resting upon my hair
And with trepidation, I wait

For a clue, any sign
Of a bomb or roadside mine
Targeting American soldiers passing by.

I see my child, my family, my friends at home
Have they ever felt so completely alone
Despite being surrounded by this every day?

Author’s Note: This poem is drawn from experiences, conversations with, and articles written by the U.S.Army’s 1-5 Cav, 2-12 Cav and 312th MI BN, the USMC’s Co K, 3rd BN, 24th Marine Regiment, and Newsweek’s Anna Quindlen.