These were the hands that held the head of youth, These were the hands that held my body off the
shattered by a snipers bullet, providing comfort ground as I fell to my knees, not knowing why until it
awaiting the last breathe
was realized the blood covering me was my own
These were the hands that held my own head down in These were the hands that shakily signed me out of a
holes never deep enough as the rounds pounded way field hospital to return to the pile of flesh infested
to close
rumble
These were the hands that waved good-bye to These were the hands that stood guard over the ground
thousands of Marines as they sailed away from the that only mere moments ago stood the American
hostile shore
Embassy for four sleepless days
These were the hands that grasped tightly to the These were the hands that wiped away dust from my
fourteen Marines left behind to guard the bees’ nest eyes and wished for the tears that never came to flow
that had been vigorously stirred
These are the hands that now try to hold a fragile life
These were the hands that clasped tightly every night and family together
in prayer to preserve my life until I woke, and again in
the morning to pray to survive the day.
These are the hands now that try to hold a beast within
at bay
These were the hands that waved frantically to my
office colleagues to take cover as I grabbed my These are the hands today that hold a wonderful wife
weapon and ran towards the noise
These are the hands that two young children rush to
These were the hands that reached for that sliding for safety and love
glass door that allowed me to step onto the exposed
balcony
These are the hands that have tried to teach young
minds the perils and purpose of war
These were the hands that attempted to hold steady the
weapon I knew so well, only to have it blown from my These are the hands that have provided protection to
hands by the force of the bomb
communities from those who wish them harm
These were the hands that flew through the air for These are the hands that have shied from friendship
untold feet only to crash against the collapsing wall.
for fear of being exposed
These were the hands that were buried and felt my These are the hands that are never idle in fear of some
own body to see if it was in one piece
distant unseen enemy
These were the hands that scratched, clawed, and dug These are the hands that for years never reached out,
my way out from what I believed to be a premature stoically staying by my side
coffin, only to hear and see the hell unfolding around
me and wanting to crawl back into my hole
These are the hands that wrapped themselves around a
bottle, the only medicine able to take the unseen but
These were the hands that would hold the soon to be always present pain away
lifeless bodies of two close buddies trying to make
their last moments less lonely
These are the hands that hide the scars that so many do
not wish to see, yet so many of us bear
These were the hands that would dig, uncover and
carry untold numbers from the burning and destroyed These are the hands that have reached out after 25
building
years for help, and were slapped by those professing
to be helpers
These were the hands that again took hold of my
precious weapon and stood guard against a secondary These are the hands that had to enter battle all over
attack
again simply to be recognized as worthy of treatment
and care
The Warrior Heart November 2014 - 20