thsi diary is dedicated to all who suffer because of war
we love and support our troops, just as we love and support the Iraqi people – without exception, or precondition, or judgment
we have no sympathy for the devil
image and poem below the fold
Karen Hamill, of Kileen, Texas, wipes her eyes during a funeral service for her husband, Army Capt. Jason Hamill, Wednesday, Dec. 6, 2006, at the Dallas-Fort Worth National Cemetery in Dallas. Hamill, 31, of Connecticut, and two other soldiers were killed by a roadside bomb while riding in an armored vehicle Nov. 26, 2006, in Baghdad.
(AP Photo/Matt Slocum)
My Soul
by Ember Ward
Sometimes
When I feel like I’m going to fall apart
I hold my ribs, all the way around,
Both sides.
My ribs hold me together,
Like glue.
They keep my breath close to my heartbeat.
They keep my soul from escaping and
Leaving me, grounded.
I hold brightness and shadows in
The hollow where my ribs meet.
I hold them there in the memories
Of slow, sorrowful music and
Porch steps.
I hold my ribs, until I feel solid.
Until my legs are tree trunks and
My fingers are fruit.
