Brisance

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From brisance condensed in hatred

ignition came,

like the dormant dust of ages,

from careless words and truth-less history,

it came.

 

Some unknown, immolated, evaporated, disappeared.

Others reconstituted, pulling limbs and minds together.

Whilst the lost fragmented to darker corners,

into the splintered flash of a moment, screaming for eternity.

 

Thunder roars silent in their dead ears.

 

The grey carpet laid randomly where it fell,

its fabric now woven into mine.

 

I wait for the second wave

to wash me clear,

away from the expanding storm,

to an untouched atoll.

 

🌷 (5)

◄ Riddle

Free falling II ►

Comments

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Wolfgar Miere

Mon 20th Mar 2017 23:23

For anyone who might be interested I have attached an audio recording of this piece.

Thank you X

David.

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Wolfgar Miere

Wed 8th Mar 2017 16:22

Thanks Andy, your comments are very encouraging and generous.

I've been really fortunate to have had some wonderful feedback on this.

Also It has attracted some interest beyond the forum which is something I haven't been used to.

Thanks again,

David.

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Travis Brow

Wed 8th Mar 2017 06:55

Better out than in David, no doubt. I can't begin to imagine the brute and brutal nature of what you describe, but you provide a peerless account. Terrific, in all that word's connotations.

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Wolfgar Miere

Mon 6th Mar 2017 14:55

Hello John,

thank you so much for your comments on this poem, I have been taken aback by the responses, and yours are both encouraging and generous.

I wasn't a serving soldier at the time of this event as I left the Army in 2005. Since then It seems I have not been able to disengage with the same old places.

I am beginning to slow down now, but do miss aspects of that life.

Again, thanks for your kind comments.

David.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mSgnC5eQ5u0

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john netting

Mon 6th Mar 2017 09:38

Hello David,

It's taken me a while to brief myself and , once I had, to gather my thoughts to comment (other than a 'Like').

I didn't realise you were a serving soldier. And first of all I took 'brisance' to be a place name and tried to place it!

I find now that the previous commentators have said it all really, and I can only join them in praise and respect. I would go along with the 'Poem of the Year' suggestion. Even detaching oneself, as far as one can, from the implications of the subject while reading this poem - what comes across is the pure, pure power of the writing.

A tremendous work.

John.

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Wolfgar Miere

Mon 6th Mar 2017 07:11

Thanks so much for your comments Ray, elP and SS, and to Colin and John for your likes.

This was extremely frustrating to write, as you say Ray it is hard to get outside and inside at the same time. I can't express the feeling I had as I lay clutching the door of my room on top of me while that storm raged down on, and around me, it was the most surreal thing I have ever experienced. I wasn't frightened but I remember thinking I might die at any moment, remembering is actually more troubling than the event. I haven't spoken about it very much to anyone, so attempting this has been unusual to say the least. I'm not sure it is helpful to dwell on feelings, but honestly there seems to be little choice sometimes.

elP, I have many pictures of the aftermath, some in much wider format which show the devastation on a larger scale, I wanted to whittle this down into smaller spaces and details, so I chose this photograph. I remained on site for ten days after, one of only two non afghans there, it was extremely unpleasant. Most news was suppressed and communications were limited. I got out of country 13 days later.

I appreciate some people might question my motives for posting this, I feel that many people who experience such events are almost ashamed and shocked into silence, some are even ridiculed for speaking up, as if they should shut up and get on with things. To my mind they are exactly the people who should be relating such events and their futility. I have many friends who have been damaged, most of them cannot articulate their feelings in any other way than anger or self destruction, so I feel I should speak.

SS, your comments are extremely generous and kind. I wonder about people caring or not, and think in some cases it may well be true that they don't. I certainly wouldn't seek their attention on a personal level, but maybe in a broader sense. Other than that I think that imagining events which are so foreign to people's general experience of life is difficult, and probably not considered a very worth while thing to do, or particularly healthy.

Anyway, thanks again to you all for taking time to read and comment, it is much appreciated.

David.

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suki spangles

Mon 6th Mar 2017 04:09

Hi David,

There are a couple of poetry books I have read by Brian Turner - Here, Bullet and Phantom Noise. He was a Captain serving in Iraq. Your poem to me is as powerful as anything in those two collections. You not only have captured a truly unimaginable experience, but also the shock of the memory, and how it remains tangible, real; replayed..

This is poetry that speaks truth to power, but I honestly don't think "they" care. Damn them!

For what its worth, I find this poem tremendously affecting. Poem of the Week? No, Poem of the Year.

SS

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elPintor

Sun 5th Mar 2017 22:44

Hey, David..I just wanted to thank you for sharing this, here. There is obviously a deep well of emotion attached to this terrible experience and I feel that it can't be easy for you to describe. The photo is absolutely frightening.

elP x

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raypool

Sun 5th Mar 2017 21:49

What comes across David I feel is the impersonal nature of the shock as applied, and the very personal result, which I think is what you intended. It is always hard as we know to precis such horrors down , but there is so much in here that can be twisted or straightened into a coherent form. When there is so much that is affecting, it is hard to get outside and inside at the same time.

Ray

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Wolfgar Miere

Sun 5th Mar 2017 19:21

Thanks for reading and comments Paul.

I have on many occasions attempted to capture what it is like to be in the midst of an explosive event, this is just my latest. The attached picture is the accommodation I was sleeping in during the early hours of the 1st August last year, when a truck bomb detonated against our perimeter wall 30m from where I was.

Some of it is about the moment of detonation and some of how I felt after, and now. I think it's the closest I have been to death, the following six hours were also extremely eventful. I suspect the subject matter is not immediately obvious.

I'm not entirely happy with it, it doesn't capture the moment as I wanted to, but I wanted this out.

Thanks again Paul.

David.

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Paul Waring

Sun 5th Mar 2017 17:55

Hi David, this poem has had me intrigued since I read it earlier. There are some very vivid images (and language) which I'm guessing are inspired by your experience in some of these places?

Powerful stuff.

Paul

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