“Learn to light a candle in the darkest moments of someone’s life. Be the light that helps others see; it is what gives life its deepest significance.” – Roy T. Bennet

Posts tagged ‘war’

The Half-Naked Stampede of Black Men

The Setting: Night, a dying bonfire, nairy a soul but two girls talking, trees all around and the whole world asleep…or was it?
The Surprise: As we laid there on a green blanket, reveling in our ingeniousness of camping out while everyone slept on dusty, dirty mattresses inside, there was a noise. The voice of a man. 
“Ruth, did you hear that? There’s someone over there!” I whispered.
We looked to the trees, and there was a single, shirtless man standing on the edge of them. 
“Rachelle, get down!”
We flattened ourselves on the blanket, breathing heavily and trying to slow our racing hearts. Suddenly, all hell broke loose.
The trees exploded with men. Men with naked torsos, their shirts wrapped around their heads and faces like ninjas or sheiks.  Men with dark skin that blended into the night, their white shirts shining out like beacons. All silently running toward us brandishing half-filled bottles of Coca-Cola and Sprite and water. We lay there, our mouths wide open in shock, hardly believing our eyes. 
They did not stop at us. They kept running, jumping over our bodies as though we were only obstacles in the way of their grand scheme. One man slowed, but only to put a finger to his lips and say, “Shh.”
They stopped at the dorms where all the other girls were sleeping with the vented windows as their targets. They aimed straight and true, soda and water splashing through onto the beds inside. As soon as they came, they went.
They streaked back to the trees like a thousand bolts of lightning, jumping over us again, our bodies now rolling around in laughter and disbelief. They disappeared, and yet, even with the intensity of their attack, no one woke. The lights remained unlit, the sleeping souls remained unstirred. 
And so with that, we knew they would return. And they did. With hoses and buckets, this time going to the side of the building where most of the windows lay, and most of the beds. They turned it on at full capacity, leaving just as quickly as before.
The screams. Oh, the screams. They echoed into the night and into our minds, softly at first, but then growing as the owners of them became more aware of their circumstances. Their beds, their bags, their bodies: drenched.  
The rebuttal was slow in coming, the plan was incomplete. They smeared their faces in toothpaste, white cheeks glowing in the dark. They passed us, not noticing us as we stood there watching the excitement and revenge in their furious eyes.
They crept of the stairs to their prey, not realizing that their prey was really the predator, and it was lying in wait. Hostages were taking, the rest of the army turning tail and running back to safety. We were joined by two others, Evangeline and Ann. We hid in the shadows, having done nothing and hesitant to have something done to us. The girls went by and came back shrieking with a horde behind them. The horde then saw us crouching there.
We, the original two, hid inside a hollow building. We saw our compatriots surrounded and splashed. One took off bellowing after a cowardly male, and the other was too tired to do anything but stand there as she was covered head to toe in toilet paper. We were curled in a corner, hoping they wouldn’t see us through the empty window. 
One did, causing us to panic. We moved to a different corner to avoid being soaked near the window. Ann the bellower entered. We took a chance as we were forgotten by the horde, and ran to another hiding place where we had stashed the  green blanket in the heat of the battle. 
As soon as it all began, it was halted. Leaders came pouring out of the doors, awakened by the cries in the night. They ushered us girls inside, and then back outside, where we did push-ups until someone dropped. Then we did jumping jacks until someone dropped. Then sit-ups until someone dropped. Then we ran in circles until finally they told us to stop, and made sure we had learned our lesson about breaking curfew. It was five in the morning. Ruth and I had been awake the entire night, having been up talking until the war started. They woke us at six. All in all, I had thirty minutes of sleep, Ruth beating me by fifteen minutes.

They never punished the men. 

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The Dancers

They dance with the sweat flinging from their limbs

They dance to impress invisible faces

And their own are as stones

Immovable, without emotion

And they spin with the ferocity of lions

Not only sweat, but paint

Dripping, dripping

They are dark like the night

Twirling in the skins of their kill

They are dangerous like the night

The blood of the animals still upon them

And they shout

And it screams to the soul

Pushing past the boundaries of the body

And back out again

Like a blinding light it escapes

They feel it

You feel it

And you dance

© 2011 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

State of Denial

battle lines were drawn in this place

it’s beautiful in the darkest of ways

i’ll write names in the dirt

and sit awhile

and watch for the dead to rise

~

in a state of denial i will wait

with rubble right beside me

and dust on my feet

here i stay

and turn a blind eye

to what made it this way

and i’ll wait…

i will wait…

~

each side feared the other side

and both were wrong and right

but my opinion is opinions

should keep to themselves

or have the good kings fight it out – on their own

~

in a state of denial i will wait

with rubble right beside me

and dust on my feet

here i stay

and turn a blind eye

to what made it this way

and i’ll wait…

i will wait…

~

and forget the past and the present

and the blood and the sweat

that drips off my face

and washes the dust off my feet

and i’ll laugh…

i will laugh…

at a joke i’d forgotten ’til today

~

in a state of denial i will wait

with rubble right beside me

and blood on my feet

here i stay

and turn a blind eye

to what made it this way

and i’ll wait…

i will wait…

 

 

© 2011 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

21 Kings

There is a place with unlit halls

And falling pillars, and wine stains

There is a long table; and chairs, twenty-one chairs

And so sit the skeletons of twenty-one kings

The one at the head, with the greatest crown

And the biggest cup, and the largest ring

The coward that began everything

After the doors of the palace broke open

To be stripped of his power

And to suffer the ridicule: unbearable

Twenty-one cowards, one bottle of poison

And the big cup, shared amongst them

There were twenty-one sips between them all

And they stayed there, waiting for the end

The convulsions began, and gasping

All the fallen rulers started dancing

They twitched, seized, but silently

And when the victors entered the room

They were met by frozen, grotesque faces

And the spirit of death

 

 

© 2011 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

The Soldier

we’d written the letters that told of our love

while i was at war

you were in my head

but the distance turned out to be too hard

or so i saw

upon my returning

do you know how i felt when i came home?

so empty

like a bottle in a desert

fighting can really take a toll on someone

being surrounded

by the dead and the dying

i expected a loving welcome when i stepped out

no matter

that your letters stopped coming

i was running to swing you in my arms like i used to

but i saw

the man at your side

and the ring…

and the bulging belly

and you never told me why

you hadn’t waited

 

 

© 2011 singinthebreeze.wordpress.com

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