War's Ballet.

A Poem by NotaBene

A Description of what was felt at March 3rd 2010's Deployment of 1/2 from Camp Lejuene to Afghanistan.

It's spring 2010, and I can hear the soft humming of running 7 tons and Hum V's

Thoughts turning to silent whispers about IEDS, MRE's and unforeseen casualties.

The prayer circles are forming throughout the court yard of Camp Lejuene

Mothers are crying, while sons and daughters are assuring them that they'll return home soon.

Husbands and fathers are looking at their children and wives as if this might be they're last chance.

I look into sullen brown eyes, as I hold our child and am hit with the sudden realization of his glance.

He holds a m-16 assault rifle, draped across his shoulders, and ribbons decorate his chest.

I watch as marines turn around to shed their tears, not wanting to cause unneeded distress.

The gravel rustles beneath sandy brown laced up boots, weighted heavy with the threats of war.

I can feel heavy hearts around me, as softly blown whistles seem to become impatient roars.

The First Sargent's are yelling calling their platoons to line up in formation.

Family Readiness Officers are standing by, awaiting to give out much anticipated information.

I see the faces of friends who have elegantly adorned their Military Bdu's

and their family members clinging tightly to them, knowing what they have to loose.

A six month deployment with little contact, in the heart of war torn Afghanistan.

I am allowed one last hug, one last look, before they set off for foreign lands.

The women wail and tears flow as they leave our view,

we all look around at each other, none of us really knowing what to do.

I know even us that don't pray will say a prayer tonight,

we all shut our eyes and whisper a silent prayer, that they'll be alright.

The next few months will be filled with sleepless nights and restless days.

longingly awaiting, praying that they return to us unscathed.