"Sharing can be a way of healing. Grief and loss can isolate,
anger even alienate. Shared with others, emotions unite
as we see we aren't alone. We realize others weep with us."
~Susan Wittig Albert

Through our writing, we walk out of the darkness into the light
together, one small step at a time, recording history, educating
America, and we are healing.
~CJ/Todd Dierdorff



Friday, August 22, 2014

My Mistress, War: by Sean Moore

3/5 India Company - call sign "Diesel"


My Mistress, War

by Sean Moore

I will always think of her. 
Sometimes fondly. 
And sometimes with disgust and hate. 
When I wake up holding onto my wife, 
I think of her. 
In the quiet hours when I’m alone, 
it is her I am with. 
She is always on my mind. 
She is all I think about.

I miss her, 
and the way she smelled. 
When we were together 
I hardly slept. 
She would keep me up all night. 
And now, more with every passing day, 
it is during the darkest hours of the night
that I lay awake thinking 
of the time we spent together.

Her hate kept me warm 
when I was cold. 
Her rage fueled me, 
drove me, 
and drove me crazy. 
Her screams still haunt me, 
something to never be unheard.

She made me a man. 
She took 
what innocent and childish ways 
that I had, 
and replaced them with a lust
and desire for the forbidden. 
I still want her. 
I still need her. 
Nearly a decade after our first encounter, 
I still feel her presence 
everywhere.

With her, 
I felt as though I was exactly who 
I was supposed to be. 
I always knew what I had to do. 
And life was simple. 
Not easy, but simple.

And then it was over. 
I knew I would never see her again 
but I could never have expected 
how lonely I would be 
without her. 
In nearly every room of my house 
there is some sort of memento 
to remind me of her. 
My body carries scars and tattoos for her. 
I close my eyes and I see her. 
When I sit in silence 
I hear her screams.

I want her. 
Always. 
I need her. 
Never again.

She was my mistress, 
and will be always.

My mistress, War…



Being human is…

by Sean Moore

Fucking exhausting. 
For all of my waking moments, 
sans the precious ones with my wife, 
I pretend.
 
I pretend to be interested, 
and to have emotions. 
I pretend to care
about the little things. 
I pretend that, 
while at the grocery store, 
I’m shopping 
when I feel like I’m hunting.
 
I have to pretend 
that sad things are sad. 
And things that make other people happy 
also make me happy.
 
I have to pretend 
to be ignorant. 
Not so much about intelligence 
(although I do), 
but about the real world. 
Very few people have experienced 
or inhabit the real world.
 
Most people live in the illusion 
of safety and comfort. 
But I know better. 
I know that we are all animals. 
And we break down 
into two categories: 
Hunters and Prey.
 
I know without a doubt 
what I am 
although I will continue to pretend 
to be domesticated.
 
What are you?



Just a Ghost

by Sean Moore

Sitting at panera 
waiting for my order, 
I know there isn’t a person here 
that can actually relate to me. 
And I am OK with that.
 
They see 
but do not see.
They hear 
but do not listen.
 
They exist 
on a different plain than I. 
I am a ghost 
that only passes into their world 
when I want to.
 
I have become an expert 
at being no one to notice. 
But I notice everything.
 
I see 
what is not in plain sight. 
I hear meaning, 
not words.

Always the hunter. 
Never noticed. 
Always watching.



About The Author


Sean Moore served with Third Battalion Fifth Marines India Company from 2003 to 2007. He did two tours in Iraq as a Mortarman and Infantryman. He did the Fallujah Experience in 2004-2005, and then security and stabilization operations back in the Anbar Provence in 2006. 

Sean Moore
Sean left the Marine Corps in November of 2007, and is now trying his handing at writing. He is currently working on a book and also looking at doing a documentary about the American gunfighter.
"It’s been years since I’ve been behind the trigger professionally and yet I still have this drive to keep my skills sharp. 
I, until recently, still frequented the range where I would run through “maintenance drills”. Speed reloads, moving and shooting, off-hand, close in tactical, tactical reloads, multiple target engagement, etc. Backwards and forwards. Inside and out. Anyways preparing for the next hunt. 
I’d run through drills with the SWAT team and critique everything in my head. They basically have their shit together, but as a unit, they lack the hunger. I’m used to being around bad motherfuckers. Professional gunfighters. Wolves amongst sheep. Now they’re gone. Now I have no enemy to fight. 
I think it’s time to hang up my guns and move on. But my hands, they remember the gun. And they won’t forget…."


“I am only one, but I am one. I can't do everything, but I can do something. The something I ought to do, I can do, and by the grace of God, I will.” ~Everett Hale


Add your opinion, thought, or comment, about this post. You are also invited to write about anything you want to share. Send it to me and I will be proud to post it for you.  E-mail CJ

Memoirs From Nam is YOUR blog.



7 comments:

  1. Your finger is always on the weapon ! [Nam 69 70 71 & 72 ]

    Later Dee 815th/102nd Eng 75th Ranger US Army RT.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Thank you for sharing, I realize when reading that I am perhaps not alone at all, if I just have 15 seconds to evaluate whatever bothers/disturbs or startles me I find I am able to react accordingly like other around me who probably do not understand why I am different, sounds and smells, music, prose and memories effect me differently you see. In country so long ago most problems were over within 15 seconds in my case (Thank God I did not suffer longer). We were trained to react and that is what we do, run or fight. Strange how as I grow older I still miss the place I thought I would forget. You brought me to tears, but they were of joy!

    ReplyDelete
  3. This was extremely difficult for me, personally, to read. Sean has the remarkable ability to write his deepest, most horrifying thoughts and emotions down to give others insight into what could only be described as "Hell."

    How are the family members and friends who viewed edited news footage on TV or in news magazines, going to help our veterans unless we understand the stark reality of their suffering?

    We must do all that we can to help them. Sean has only given us a small glimpse.
    Frances Foster Johnson

    ReplyDelete
  4. War is still my mistress. I still think of her all the time and now take medication so I don't dream about her. I thought I was a mature man until I met her. Thanks for putting her in perspective. SC Y

    ReplyDelete
  5. I am making a book regarding significant people in our lives while in Vietnam. I would be interested in contributions that include short stories and photos.
    Skip Nelson

    http://acandleinthedarknessbook.com

    ReplyDelete
  6. I had a girl friend in Nam. I wanted her to come back to the US with me but she said no. I always think of how my life would have been with her.
    Norm Lupescu

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  7. I buried my experiences for 40 years and now the only way I can deal with them is VA therapy and perspiration's. It sucked coming back to the hatred and name calling. We were soldiers doing our jobs, believing what we were told.. I wish my head would stop hurting.

    ReplyDelete

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