|Basically what I looked at every day for four months.|
Yay empty desert and camels. Picture found here.
There have been quite a few roadtrips in my rearview mirror over the past year or so. I drove from Virginia to New York and back multiple times, Virginia to Missouri and back twice, Missouri to Texas, and now Texas to Virginia. I’ve got another roadtrip around the corner, but this one I won’t be driving myself. The family is heading up to Pennsylvania for an annual summer reunion. It’s always a lot of fun, mainly because we eat and drink and laugh and watch Star Trek and ride horses and just have a riot out in rural (and when I say “rural,” I mean rural) Pennsylvania. It’s a blast. Then shortly after we return, I’ll have to start heading back to Texas. It’s a two-day trip, and I usually take a break with a friend who lives along the route.
It is, as always, good to be back in Virginia. Everything here is so green right now! The trees are definitely dressed in their summer finest. There’s been a lot of rain this year, which likely accounts for the intense greenness. Even the grass, which is usually a little brownish by August, is a bright emerald. I went for a run yesterday morning along my favorite running road—well shaded, not so well trafficked, and winding lazily next to a creek—and just couldn’t get over all the green. Perhaps it comes as such a shock of color after spending so long in the colorless desert. Speaking of, as promised, here’s a poem I wrote while deployed, titled simply “Hell.” Enjoy!
There’s something buried here.
There’s a vengeance; there’s a need,
buried underneath the sand
and piles of debris.
It rumbles with the wind;
it clings to our clothes,
and if it rears its ugly head,
this desert may explode.
There’s something buried here:
an ancient, angry grief
under pebble-crusted dunes,
It stirs the blood of Soldiers,
chills the wary to the bone,
infiltrates our dreams with thoughts
of never going home.
There’s something buried here,
and that something wants us gone.
It says, “You never should have come,”
but we’ve known that all along.