Alter Ego

Another poem I wrote for a HP Writer's group meeting.

"Alter Ego"

By Anthony Ikehara

I quickly broke the silent contemplation,

“Send me to the front, I’ll take the mail, let me be the guy,”

A steely resolve set an edge to a voice without hesitation

Bright eyes reflected a quiet determination on which they could rely.

Relieved looks and words of gratitude met my revelation,

I told them not to worry, that their loved ones would not cry,

For I, selfless and noble, would soldier on for them in dedication,

Though inside I could hear a silent doubt, asking me not to try

Yet still I climbed aboard the convey headed for Mosul;

I was the combat mailman, trying to play it cool.

Well sure, that speech was nice and all,

But we both know why you volunteered for the fall,

You high-minded hero, born to run, and not to crawl.

You alone were the one with the wherewithal,

Smiling in the face of danger, to enter the hall

Where heroes stand immortalized, lauded for rising to the call.

So what if toiling away in this hostile land was not where you wanted to be?

You owe it to your family legacy, to make the most of this opportunity.

I was no hero; I was merely human, and seemingly cursed.

A silent reverie was ruined, as the truck ahead hit an IED and did a flip.

Could this be the end; was my luck truly the worst?

I peered out into the darkness, fingers choking the rigid rifle grip

Was there a future for my life, my academic thirst?

I took a breath, and let another quick prayer slip

Through clenched teeth, as I moved the selector to burst

When the 50 cal gunner yelled out and let it rip.

Was there something he saw that I did not?

Was I about to be called upon to take my shot?

Or, more likely he was just firing blind, the sad sack,

Spooked by a shadow, giving the odd camel a heart attack.

Cool, calm, and collected, you, a reasonable guy, keep your wits intact.

You wouldn’t let allow mere imagination to cause a crack

In your, stern, steady visage, proving there was no lack

Of courage in your body; you’re a regular Billy Badass, a hero in Iraq.

In countless summers of backyard battles you had foreseen this night,

Untold hours buried in heroic literature prepared you for this fight.

To my unending relief or deepest regret, (forever unknown)

“Once Upon a Time in the Middle-East” was not my destiny.

I eased back on the trigger as the motors started to groan.

Who was I really, hugging the back tire of that Humvee?  

A son, brother, nephew, friend; a young man feeling alone?

A dauntless defender of the American way, of life and liberty?

Perhaps in truth, I was just a guy that wanted to go home

Copyright © 2016 by Anthony Ikehara