Warrior Poetry – Eleven Months

 

By J.E. McCollough

 

Eleven months of

waiting, war and uncertainty

concluded in the same

Camp Pendleton parking lot

where they began.

 

Rusted white school buses dropped us off

right where they had picked us up –

Spilling us back onto cracked, weed-filled asphalt

outside battalion headquarters.

 

All the wives and girlfriends waited

where they had left us

last September.

They had their same gorgeous passion

but now they had beer,

glittered signs

and smiling tears,

instead of just tears.

 

We drank our beers in a silent small circle,

and clinked the bottoms of the bottles

without offering a specific toast.

Uncertain how to part

after eleven months of

Together.

 

They went home with their wives and girlfriends

And I hailed a cab

to an empty apartment.

 

Comments

comments

3 Comments

1. 

   Rob

   September 7, 2013 at 10:01 pm

   That’ll be me here in awhile, that is if I get back. I’m not dreading going, I’m dreading coming back home to nothing.
   • 

     Rampy

     September 8, 2013 at 1:04 pm

     Just, keep moving..
   • 

     tk

     September 8, 2013 at 2:02 pm

     True that just keep moving just ruck up . semper fi