MIA--Missing in America

by Matthew Davison

Poem


Daddy's Hand

by Dan Yates

Poem


Awakening

by Lawrence Langman

Poem


Ella's Submarine

by David Ludlow

Prose


The Love of God

by Gene Groner

Poem


Viet Lament

by Paul Nyerick

Prose


White light

By Paul Nyerick, Marines

Writing Type: Prose

It started as the perfect evening.

Moonbeams slowly danced between glowing green fireflies, accentuating the subtle differences between the clarity of pure color. Night birds chirped melodically; while crickets and peepers synced themselves to the rhythms of this nights of nights. Stars blinked while planets glowed. As I basked in the awe of this celestial experience, my eyes noticed that a storm was brewing on the western horizon. A soft rumble and intermittent changes in light could be seen or heard in the far away thickening cloud bank.

Not to worry, there was no way anything would dare ruin this night’s majesty. These visions reminded me of the beauty our planet has to offer.  After a few meditative breaths, I was ready to enjoy a safe and restful slumber.  Fast asleep, I peacefully experienced positive dreams of peace and love for my fellow beings I share this beautiful blue sphere with.

Subtle flashes of light penetrated my closed eye lids, while louder crackling sounds rumbled into my open ears. Eerie sights and sounds began to intensify, as though they were zeroing in on my euphoric state. Moment by moment, the sky began to lose its grip on the peace it had promised. I stood fast, hoping the siege would turn away from my dream, when in a long moment, salvos of vicious claps interspersed with rolling booms startled my psyche.

The storm took on a sinister path, when a sizzling bolt with a simultaneous explosion landed right outside my open window. My mind levitated my body off the bed. An intense, pure white light enveloped everything. This pure white light felt as if it were sent by the hands of the gods. Thor did a number on changing the peacefulness into chaos and terror. The smell of the burning air filled the entire space between what was real or just an illusion. That second dripped with irony.  
   
After witnessing that explosive fury, I was instantly transported back to that Buddhist monastery where I was a nanosecond away from an audience with the Grim Reaper. Yes, the pure white light, devoid of all color, from that dangerous cracking bolt mimicked the glow and thunder from that exploding shell not five feet from my shallow burrow. Wow, I thought I had a grip on that fateful night, but the Republic of South Vietnam has a menacing way of sneaking back into the picture. 

After a few moments, the sky lit up again, but this time the barrage lasted more than a minute. The pure white light furiously glowed, while that deafening roar continued.
  
After a while, the sky tore open with a deluge, drowning away all the negativity, and just as it began, it was all over. But wait, the power went out. I had about 12 hours to try to process the previous night. This just goes to show, that you can take the boy away from the jungle, but it’s just temporary. Oorrah!   
    
      

Daddy's Hand

by Dan Yates

Poem


Memories of a Battlefield Nurse

by Louise Eisenbrandt

Poem


The Love of God

by Gene Groner

Poem


Respect

by Lawrence Langman

Poem


The Protesters

by Jeffrey Lewis

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Who?

by Neal Morrison Jr

Poem