Dispatch from the Front XII

In this dispatch, my correspondent waxes a little poetic.

Howdy one and all. Groundhog day again. I have another Situation Report. Violence. Not much you can do to spin that. Some folks were breathing the day before and now they are not.

About 4 of 18 provinces have a lot of daily violence. Others are certainly dangerous in the extreme. A similar example would be maybe Columbia at the height of its internal conflict where the level of violence was nearly unbelievable. This is not going away any time soon. Most likely years away from stability.

How much and what type of continued American involvement in Iraq remains to be seen.

Anything happy to report? I will have to get back to you on that. Other than that, I am alive and well so far and God continues to bless with safety in some less than safe conditions. Ha!

I leave you with a poem. I enjoy poetry and it's rather shameful it is not held in higher esteem in our society and certainly our public education where in years past all children were inculcated in a wide variety of forms.

A country where poetry is often a bestseller? Iran aka Persia where thousands of years of poetic tradition in its long history is alive and well.

William Henley, 1849-1903, a contemporary of Kipling (of Jungle Book fame, among others, another favorite of mine) and a friend of Robert Louis Stevenson (of Treasure Island fame among others), he had some health issues in life yet perservered with admirable determination.

This poem translated means Invincible in Latin and at times has been an apt metaphor or somewhat realistic in its other descriptions of my then current condition during my military service. Otherwise, it serves as a creed.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll, I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.


Take care y'all. Be well, do good works, and keep in touch.
Yours

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Dispatch from the Front I
Dispatch from the Front II
Dispatch from the Front III
Dispatch from the Front IV
Dispatch from the Front V
Dispatch from the Front VI
Dispatch from the Front VII
Dispatch from the Front VIII
Dispatch from the Front IX
Dispatch from the Front X
Dispatch from the Front XI