Unholy Ordnance

I look at my life before the war,
chockablock with prayer requests, holy tomes
and communion with a higher power.
Then alightment on the field of battle
rifle-ready, rucksack-relaying
clad from helmet to combat boots
in digital camo and body armor.
From insurgent alleyways
through booby-trapped homes,
we skirted IEDs and spider holes.
Fortified behind Jersey barricades,
we waited for grenades to come.
I remember the barrage of artillery,
MK-77s
and bodies shrouded in white phosphorous haze.
Now I carry only shell-shocked faith
and an intractable belief
that God’s promise is subject to the evidence.