How are you with your back to the ground?Pinned down by fire on all sides?
You dare not lift your head above the sight line.
Some people feel the same every time they open their eyes;did you know that?
It seems such a harsh comparison: to compare wakingin your own bed, your head on your own pillow,
to being hunkered down in a foxhole with the night sky peppered
with explosions from shells so close that your eardrums burst.
But some people awake like that.
How can the quiet of the morning be, for some,so much like the encroaching fear of having your
flesh flayed off your skeleton and your bones shattered to dust?
It seems such a sad thing,But here we are:
With our eyes open, and the neighbors’ dogs barking somewherein the distance of the neighbors’ yard.
And now it is time to lift our shoulders,above that sight line,
and face the fires and the explosions of this tragic little warthat we call our daily lives.