Monday, 30 April 2007

Multivoice poem: three fronts related to the GWOT

Intense: three battlegrounds, three stories, one event tying them all together
1. Sweat dripped down the interior of his damn clothes.
2. Sweat dropped from his brow as he stared at endless letters on the screen.
3. A bead of sweat swam down the darkened shoulder of the Marine.

1. Why must I wear these shameful rags, if only to fit in, he thought… it is a necessary disguise for the attack.
2. This is it, he thought, the reason he had become an analyst: to stop the terrorists who killed his mother.
3. Why the hell did he answer the call of patriotism from within him, why did he listen to that recruitment poster, he thought — who was this war protecting? He had enrolled after the terrorist attack; how could he be so naïve?

1. Was everything in place? He hoped so. The attack was soon.
2. He saw the sign, the attack is near; he raced to the office of his superior.
3. Another roadside bomb, another brother killed – more innocents too.

1. He fantasized more: Soon he would be in heaven, these infidels one and all burning in the flames of their own damnation.
2. The proof was in front of him, but no one would listen; arrogant national security bureaucrats cannot be reasoned with.
3. After the spike of adrenaline everyone must have felt, he slowed the vehicle down.

1. His brothers looked like they were soon to begin the operation.
2. He kicked the glass door, it did not break, but his toe hurt like hell, he didn’t know whether that was good or bad — there were more important things than a screwed toe about to happen.
3. Bullets rained upon the convoy, death followed in their trail.

1. A prayer was said; and then the attack began.
2. An hour later breaking news flashed across the television screen: terrorist attack.
3. War is a machine of death, killing those around you — killing those you know, and those you don’t. He was one of the lucky ones though. But why was he lucky? If only there were more.

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