Tibnin Bridge

Tibnin Bridge. In 1999 I drove over Tibnin Bridge in the sweltering heat,as the UN bus rose a trail of dust,billowing up behind us,the laughter onboard almost distracted me from my task,the careful watch of the road signs,my finger following the road snaking through South Lebanon,on a trip from Tyre up into the hills. I was only a baby when you died here,but not much later my older brothers went to serve in that land,which was soaked with your blood,I heard your story while I was still so very young,in the weeks before the first of them left for the Lebanon,they spoke in hushed tones in the kitchen,but I heard from my games in the hall outside.

Soldier Still

Soldier Still See the reverent hands unfold the cloth,medals laid with old memories to rest,blanketed in a white shroud,serving to muffle the scraping sounds,like April's soil absorbed the impact of screeching mortars.

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