Falling

                                                                          

Isaiah 41:10  Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand. 

                                                                            Falling

                                                           Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                          To a terror infinitely cold, depraved, and black.
                                    Such violence and anger  the world has always known.

                                                          Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                    Her people are dying and their lives and society cracks
                              Her little children suffer in fear, and in their pain they groan.

                                                          Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                        Relentlessly the evil minded in horrific ways attack.
                           The world listens but seems deaf to the intensity of victim's moans.

                                                        Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                                         For honor, law, and  democracy it had no knack.
                             Though it was something her people desperately wanted to own.
.
                                                          Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                              America made efforts but in this we offer little to take up the slack.
                                   Not much it seems there is that can be done by just a drone.

                                                          Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                  Our own governments advice cannot influence or make a pack.
                                         I wonder, are there things for which we should atone?

                                                         Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                               Mankind's best efforts and resources once again we find to lack.
                                Many who do not know Him wonder is God still on His throne.

                                                         Falling, falling Iraq is falling,
                                  When will we realize God only can bring her back on track.
                       All will someday know, submission to His love will mend and heal alone.

                                                         Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                                        Pray the Father that His hand He will not hold back.
                               Grieve not that many of His own He is calling to their true home.

                                                        Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                           God's plan is at work, and he who this pain and suffering does wrack, 
                                    Will soon be defeated and never again the world roam.

                                                        Falling, falling, Iraq is falling,
                         We continually try to construct a safe place, but we realize only a shack.
                  Creation will learn God's truth is the only place offering a true protecting dome.

oems, short poems,
                                        All images and this poem are copyrighted to Debra LeCompte, 
                                                                all usual protections and permissions apply.

A Collection for Women

I first published this page on another blog that I write, and I am republishing it here to present it in the continuity of this series of poems I wrote on women and our experiences in war and to add all of these poems to my poetry blog.  I have written many other poems about all the roles women play in war, and I hope you will read them as well.   Here again I offer some of the thoughts that I experienced as I anticipated a trip to Washington D.C. where I was to visit with two of my "women of war" friends.

I was thinking again this morning about how the women of the world develop relationships of sisterhood in many different shared experiences.  I am certain that a large factor to this is found in the role of motherhood which is a common experience for many women, and a profound role for any woman.  Falling in love with men is another shared  emotional experience that is so life imprinting when it is experienced by a woman. On Friday I am flying into Washington, and part of my anticipation and excitement lies in the spending of time with two cherished women who are among the strongest in mind, heart, and spirit of my women friends.  One is a relatively new friend, and I am delighting in coming to know more about her life, her interests, where she draws her incredible strength from, her life challenges, and her strategies for meeting them.  For in these observations, I will gain strength and skills for my own life, and I hope too, to share the skills that I have won in my life in order to give empowerment and encouragement to her.  The other friend I have had for awhile, and come to deeply admire.  When something is truly challenging in my life, I seek out her wisdom.  Her life, and that of her husband are a testimony to what has built and sustained our nation, they are people who have truly offered self-less service to our country, and in essence to the world.  The poem I wrote entitled Rare and Remarkable Women was written in tribute to this amazing friend.  Following that poem you will find several others about the women of war.

I Saw the Sad Eyes

 

  

I Saw the Sad Eyes 

I saw the sad eyes of women who had been betrayed,
By those who from honor, never should have strayed.

They could not have known what would come to them,

 Integrity was pledged and they believed without a whim.

In a dark hour their faith and loyalty was shattered. 
Their lives, without regard, left broken and tattered.

 

Time seemed strangled and unable their injuries to mend.
To go on with life seemed to have nowhere to begin.

Then in chorus the sad eyes looked around in panic and pain,
In a moment they knew other eyes revealed the same stain.

                                                                    
 Hearts united and power and change came with more ease,      
 The weakest were lifted first by the women from their knees.

Words and tears were shared and brought balm to their soul wounds.
Slowly in unity they overcame, and the living of lives resumed.

 

 I saw the sad eyes of women who had been betrayed. 
By those who from honor, never should have strayed.

     

The photos of eyes of women posted as a part of this poem are cropped from pictures taken at the Service Women's Action Network conference in April of 2013. I was privileged to be asked to attend this conference. These women are all survivors of Military Sexual Trauma. There is one exception, the eyes portrayed in black and white at the top of the post, are those of a non-survivor, her father attended the conference, as did several parents of Victims.  Her name was Carrie, she was a Marine, and she took her own life after being unable to cope with the beating and rape she sustained while in service, perpetrated by those serving along side of her.  Her father, a retired Marine works tirelessly to bring justice for her. We gathered to celebrate survival, offer support to one another, to work for change, and to mourn for and remember those who did not survive.  One of our goals was the passage of the Ruth Moore Act, which provides for equal consideration for those Service Members who suffer PTSD due to MST, and provision for the same benefits and services as provided those who suffer PTSD due to combat.  On June 04, 2013, it became law.

Another of our goals was to change how cases of Military Sexual Trauma are investigated and handled, and December of 2013 saw progress in that area as well.  We owe so much to those who serve, our prayers, our love, and our support.  That support should always include demanding that at all times the military operates from a place of sacred duty and honor, and that every Service Member be valued, and promises from our government kept.

Did You See That Blue Moon Tonight?

Did You See That Blue Moon Tonight?

                          

 OOOOOhhhh, AAAAAhhhh, that Blue Moon thing....

Blue Moon

Did you see that rare blue moon tonight,

In the sky of the land where they fight?

As I gazed up I thought longingly of you,

When you saw it, did you think of me too?

War has taken you my Soldier, far from me,

You left, and I never knew how long it would be.

When you are gone it leaves a hole in my heart,

How I wish we never had to be apart. 

 Now I wonder will I see you sometime soon,

I realize sadly, only once in a blue moon.

I love you and miss you Randy.... 

Young Women With Dark Eyes and Dark Hair

 One of my favorite poems is one of the first I wrote.  After I read a story about  several young Afghan women who had joined the Afghan National Army, and who were training to be pilots, I wanted to pay tribute to them.  What amazing courage and selfless service for their country, and all women of the Middle East, their service represents!  I know what opposition and threat by some, it will bring to their lives. With these words I hope I honor these young women as they stand in courage and strength. I offer my poem of tribute to the young pilots, and all the brave women of Afghanistan, who have endured much.

Young Women With Dark Eyes and Dark Hair

Who are these young women with dark eyes and dark hair,
With beauty that runs so deep, and courage rare?

From what cloth were they cut, and where was it woven?
Who was the Artist from whose mind the colors were chosen?

 Of what fiber is the cloth and thread made,
That forms their true hearts which when they were bade,

By whispers to their souls of service to their country and us all,
Without hesitation bid them answer that call?

The fibers from which those threads took shape,
Were grown by the people of their nation who do not hate.

The seeds were planted in the soil by their fathers.
Then the fibers were collected at harvest by their brothers.

The thread of hope was spun by the hands of their skilled mothers.
None gave heed to the threats of others.

Then they were woven by their sisters, whose lives will be forever changed,
By the steps that they take and the destiny they arrange.

Finally from the Artist's hand, priceless treasure, a gift from Afghanistan,
Came to the people of the world who desire only with honor to stand.

Their mark and place in history their names will take.
When their life's work is made for the peace that lies at stake.

Who are these young women with dark eyes and dark hair,
With beauty that runs so deep, and courage rare?

Alone, All, All, Alone

One of the most outstanding characteristics of PTSD is the overwhelming sense of being isolated.  Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, was originally termed and officially diagnosed in Soldiers coming home from Viet Nam, but Soldier's Heart, as it was called during the American Revolution and the Civil War, has been recognized since Biblical times.  It also is suffered by persons who experience other traumatic type incidents in life.  The feelings are often the same.  I have had so many Soldiers, and even their family members, describe how alone they feel.

I Came Home to My Daughter

Aunty Brat, my good friend and fellow supporter of the American and Coalition Forces, sent me a note about a Soldier coming home on leave to see, for the first time, his new baby girl.  She was born while he was deployed.  It brought such beautiful images to my mind immediately, and when I went to Aunty's blog and saw her picture, my heart just melted at her sweet little self.

http://assolutatranquillita.blogspot.com/2011/05/every-day-hero-welcome-home.html

To her parents and all her family, thanks for making my day, and thank you all for your service and sacrifice!  We are a grateful nation!  This is what I sent to the new baby and all those who love her.  May she thrive in your love, always live in liberty, and come to know of your sacrifices to the preservation of freedom.

You know, if Aunty Brat says you are a special Soldier, you must indeed be a special Solider. It is always difficult for me to put into words how I feel about Soldiers and their families. When I try to open a ketchup package, and it is difficult for me, there is a thought that never fails to cross my mind. No matter how much I love my country, if it had to depend on me for for some of the most important of the protection needed from its enemies, we women would all be wearing burqas. We must have young men and women of the caliber and skills which you possess, or our heritage of freedom will disappear.... As the sign on my gate says, "Land of the free, because of the brave."

Since my husband went to war, poetry concerning this great conflict has haunted me until I express it. Your homecoming to your new daughter caused beautiful images in my mind. I wrote words that I hope will comfort and empower your family as you serve. So here is my gift to the new baby:

                                               I Came Home to My Daughter

                                   There she lay, so warm, pink, soft, and sweet.
                                               When first we finally did meet.

                                I saw so much of her mother there in her eyes,
       The stamp of my own features on her countenance threatened to make me cry.

                                 Wonder at the first sight of my darling daughter,
                          Swept my soul, and I knew my life she would forever alter.

                                         Feelings too tender for the battlefield,
                            In that moment caused all my vigilance briefly to yield.

                                   Then I realized more clearly than ever before,
                  I was called to war because of an evil good people everywhere deplore.

                               My newborn child and all the children of the world,
                              Need those of us in service, the flag of liberty to unfurl.

                     In my daughter’s face I saw the hope of our world and our nation,
                           Waiting for her contributions, which true peace will hasten.

                        I knew that in a land far away, where long I had stood the wall,
                      Children were seeing first hand our intent in the service of us all.

       As they watch, I know they too will learn,

                         Their own hearts for peace and liberty will come to yearn.

In this the power of the enemy will disappear,

The truth of all our brotherhood will finally do away with all fear.

So though my heart longs to stay,

I will again return to the war zone in just a few short days.

In my mind, images of her gentle beauty,

Will give me strength and bring complete commitment to my sacred duty.

Rock Gently the Cradle Lullaby

 

Rock Gently the Cradle Lullaby 

Rock gently the cradle of the Soldier’s baby where he sleeps.

Make certain he has no need that you have resources to meet.

Who would not with his life his son or daughter defend,

If an enemy stood in plain sight ready to make that child’s life end?

Somewhere across great oceans a Soldier tonight,

Stands for his country ready to fight.

Keeping watch to protect not only the son he left behind,

He keeps watch too for your son and mine.

For each of us, our children hold fast our hearts,

In order for them to grow up in liberty, someone to war must depart.

Remember the sacrifices of those left behind and take care should they weep.

Rock gently the cradle of the Soldier’s baby where he sleeps. 

His Presence His Mother Will Miss

This photo belongs to Sheri Tester

His Presence His Mother Will Miss

Today I read of a young man's vow, and I cried considering this.

A son is leaving home, I know his presence his mother will miss.

I know of such things, and pride and love rose in my own heart.

For someone I have never met, who from home and family will depart.

Sacrifice will be required, and challenges will be many and great.

At home, for his return his family, friends, and mother will wait.

As I have watched those I hold most dear for many years serve,

I know what honor and regard such a selfless commitment deserves.

Today I read of a young man's vow, and I cried considering this.

A son is leaving home, I know his presence his mother will miss.

 This Peace Rose was raised in my garden by the front door.

This poem is for Sheri Tester and her son Steven, January 30, 2014