“God help us all.”
These words I whisper whenever my throat isn’t full of ash.
Tonight I whisper it twice.
Because tonight we lost another.
My comrade, my friend.
They caught him,
soaked his camo in gasoline,
and dropped a match beneath his feet.
His bloody screams keep ringing through my head.
I watched him burn away.
I choked on the ash. Vomited. Choked again.
Out of hope and out of faith.
running out of words to say
running out of the desire to speak them
I tell them over the radio with halting words like toddler speech.
It’s over.
--- You should have seen my Mom’s face when she came home from the Christmas party. The kitchen counter was completely cleared off, every...
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