2018 / poetry / author
TRACY POWERS
THE FIELD
…
This rescue will not come with a roar in the air
No pounding theme song, no red crosses on the sides of muddy vans
As they leave deep tracks upon the earth;
Tattered tents won't dot the untamed landscape
The clang of brass shells nonexistent on blood-shed ground
Instead – the silent soldier's fingertip glides across the battlefield
Down the rim of a nose hill
Stealthily moving upon the curves, valleys, and skirmishes
Of his right bicep
Tracing, exploring the scenery
Across colorful decorations, burned in ink on the lay of the land
Her touch skillfully defuses the minefield
One by one, fuses broken
Thread by thread, healed
Feeling the breath of life rise and fall
Near the center of her world
The Soldier then closes her weary, blissful eyelids
Rests her head in gentle victory
Of a battle won, but a war so far ahead
While a cool, steady wind blows around the skin of these bunkermates
Quiet napalm, powerful silence