I walked the perimeter of the camp tonight. Overcast, no stars. Smoking a cuban cigar and listening to music. No real danger, not here, deep on a Peshmerga base. The music is about battle and loss. What did Oscar Wilde write about the Irish? "...the race that God made mad, for all their wars are merry and all their songs are sad."
I'm feeling it tonight, missing the battle joy, feeling the depression of the inevitability of life, of aging. Wishing to meet the man who can kill me. Not to die so much as to die in absolute battle joy, on the very edge of what a human can experience- perfectly focused, every atom of my being in a single strike or a single sight picture and presssssss... then the clean burning pain from the wound I didn't see coming. I've been close enough to know the feeling (have I really? Wouldn't it be new, more, different than near death?) of burning pain of the wound and creeping cold of the shock and the fear of the big dark... but, tonight I am hungry for it.
There is so much more to see in this world and the world is so beautiful... and yet I am weary.
Hear me, world, for I am weary
I have heard the muezzin at sunrise
And broken the bones of the enemy
Seen the sunrise over sands that Ali walked
Been challenged by the Ravens of Odin
And earned the brotherhood of the Wind
Warriors feel the Death in me and step away
Children and wolves relax
"You are like a fox," Shewar says
In different languages
Orange skies and blue, and the aurora
Green seas, and blue, and stormy gray
The blue white blue white flash, spinning
True brothers and
Enemies become friends
I turned off skype tonight. Kami is the one thing that makes this fade, but it would be too hard to hear her voice. Not tonight, love. I need to feel this, not deny it. It will pass. There is so much to do. Good works, I am literally saving people, but...
Always 'but'. The animal in me would wander into the mountains, into the desert. That is who I am. The man in me must help others, fulfill obligations. That is who I have promised to be.