Mnemosyne is a daughter Titan, Greek goddess of memory. My poetry is often mnemonic, a way of remembering. I am posting these for memory's sake, for critique, for connecting to the world through my attempts at making art. Some posts might just be my thoughts on trying to make sense of making a worthwhile life.
I really love this poem. Even though you and I have never experienced the sort of battle involving weapons and explosions... this invokes some of the emotions that I can imagine feeling in a first battle. I wrote this...which is pretty much exactly what went through my head as I read your poem. It's not meant to be a succinct version or impression of your poem...it's just the thoughts and ideas that I instantaneously had as I read your History of Battle...
The confusion of unprepared history, Learning from experiences not experienced.
Instinct flowing on adrenaline Surreal opacity Clarity of dreaming awake
Finding a way, Getting a grip, Mission accomplished.
The heart sinks, gut relaxes, legs give way. Weariness remains.
We lay for a while.
Then it is time. We wrench ourselves up. Bit. By. Bit. And then it is running up the hill, no looking back, no stopping until true rest and perfection can be found. It is then that we have reached
Val,
ReplyDeleteI really love this poem. Even though you and I have never experienced the sort of battle involving weapons and explosions... this invokes some of the emotions that I can imagine feeling in a first battle. I wrote this...which is pretty much exactly what went through my head as I read your poem. It's not meant to be a succinct version or impression of your poem...it's just the thoughts and ideas that I instantaneously had as I read your History of Battle...
The confusion of unprepared history,
Learning from experiences not experienced.
Instinct flowing on adrenaline
Surreal opacity
Clarity of dreaming awake
Finding a way,
Getting a grip,
Mission accomplished.
The heart sinks, gut relaxes, legs give way. Weariness remains.
We lay for a while.
Then it is time.
We wrench ourselves up. Bit. By. Bit.
And then it is running up the hill, no looking back, no stopping until true rest and perfection can be found. It is then that we have reached
Precision.