Giants In A Combat Zone! Poem by Renee Marie

On my bunk board, conex container, room number 132, Camp Phoenix, Kabul, Afghanistan,
I found these words penned
with a black Sharpie:
'If I have been able to see further, it was only because I stood on the shoulders of giants.'
― Isaac Newton.
I dare to tremble.
Later, I enter the Commander's first 'Battle Update Briefing' and take my place, shaking.
I am the one female of four company commanders.
In the BUB, I am obediently perched in my wheeled, vinyl arm chair, trying to blend in with weary Staff Officers
at the Vermont-made, heavily varnished, solid wood conference-styled table in the combat zone!

My right palm rests over the handgrip of my 9mil.
This is real and so ridiculous!
Breath is too shallow to shake anxiety off.
I tremble, knowing I may fail at feeling 'competent' for this assignment in hypocrisy!

My Power Point slides seem so elementary;
bullet points may incite laughter from the audience of so-called comrades
sitting at attention around this windowless, secure plywood, Task Force Long Trail, Headquarters.
This is so trite and pompous!
None of this babble matters now and will not matter in a hundred-trillion years.

I want to see the truth even when I feel like a fraud. We serve two giants at the same time.
We speak of winning hearts and minds of the Afghan People yearning to BE free, on our terms.
We never speak of the seduction of perpetual war for profit.

'If I have been able to see further, it was only because I stood on the shoulders of giants.'

I open my briefing with the quote found written on my top bunk board, one hour earlier,
casually clearing my throat where my heart took-up a swelling residence ten minutes ago.

I am 'different' but I try not to care.
How dare I 'care' about feeling real or comfortable
in my own skin - in a combat zone!

For the remainder of the year, I am the dwarf;
the "hippie Commander of the Medical Company", feeling still like I must be called to do giant things
but I haven't found the map or deciphered these cryptic messages we proselytize for profit.

© Reneé Marie
December 2010