Desert Storm

(A Response)

Mood: It’s that one dream. The one they keep showing in the movies. You are walking down a road, everything seems okay and then suddenly the road disappears, and you’re falling.

(Perhaps it is important to begin with a dedication, to you – the one who threw themselves into the depths of the impossible. For you who has read every poem about not calling the impossible impossible and thought – fuck your poetry. For you, who has fallen seventeen times, gotten up eighteen and, somehow, is still falling. For you who found out the light at the end of the tunnel was nothing but an optical illusion. For you who has believed, perceived, conceived but is yet to achieve. For you who hasn’t died, got stronger, hasn’t died, got stronger, hasn’t died, got stronger, and is battling death once more. For you who thinks you are strong enough, but still aren’t. For the broken clocks who are never present when they are right. For those who have chased their dreams down back alleys and office halls. For their blistered feet and how they keep running. A poem for those who have sat in despair and frustration – it can’t be done, it can’t be done, it can’t be done. A poem for those who give up, let go, walk away. A poem for those who refused to be burned by their own flame any longer.)

 

Thank you

for your service.

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