08/28/2013 by syrbal-labrys
My son is in Afghanistan. A near-adoptee son is somewhere else in the Mideast, he is in another branch of service. His unit is shipbound for Syria. They were expected home in barely 30 days but have been told to STOP telling family and friends when they will be home.
If they get home at all. You know, on that stone at the heart of the Walk of the Fallen Memorial Labyrinth, I had “Iraq” engraved in 2003….because that is where my outrage was at just then, I still hoped Afghanistan was semi-legitimate and would be OVER soon. I wonder if my engraver makes house-calls? Because it seems the stone is not going to have room enough….
I so wanted it to be a speech, an admonishment, an appeal to humanity. But no, it is going to be bombs and missiles. And bodies. Sooner or later, American bodies.
You know the chorus, right? Fuck.Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck! (Don’t even bother bitching about my foul mouth, I’m inventing new words…)