STANLEY PACION

(Chicago, Illinois USA)

Thank You, Bacchus*


Thank you, Bacchus. You let me go,
Freed me from your treacherous hold.

The enemy's army caught our ranks unaware;
Our generals had not figured on all-out assault.

A panic irrupted.
There was not time to grab my boots.
I started my run across the Sinai.
I hoped to survive and make it home.

Though still early morning, the sand grew hot.
Before too long my feet were sorely burned.
Snipers hid among the rocks and hills;
They shot and killed us, almost everyone.

Thank you Bacchus. You let me go,
Freed me from your treacherous hold.

I crossed the Nile and my injuries healed,
From death in the desert, abandoned and alone,
Your grace had saved me.
Now I share this marvelous tale;
The troops in rout and I had prevailed.

Submitted: Wednesday, October 23, 2013
Edited: Wednesday, October 23, 2013

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

*Bacchus is the Roman god of wine; he has a number of darker associations, one of them is the disorder apparent when an army suffers a calamitous defeat.

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