Snakes and Wabbits

From somewhere outside the lines of 

demarcation comes a rushing whoosh,

trailing a wavy string of white smoke.

Then a dull pop, and green-star clusters

light the hill with phosphorescence.

Then, it's pre-dawn dark once again.

Burnt images on retinas give hope.

The wabbit grinned in the dark,

in his bed of raw earth.

The handset squawked, 

muffled and muted,

in the waiting silence.

Across a hundred metres of 

disputed mud and s**t 

the snake was slithering in.

The wabbit stretched, drank greedily

from a canteen of iodine purifed water,

from a leech-infested pool.

Early morning luxury

in a jungle war,

in the predawn morning cool.

The sky showed grey

as the snake came in,

crusted with sweat and mud.

Tired from chasing unpenned pigs,

stomp-down crazy

through the night.

And the bayonets were

crusted with dried blood.

Snakes and wabbits

keyed in to someone else's war.

While the mamasan chews betel nut

and grades broken rice,

squatting barefoot

in the chaff and dirt,

with her slowly rolling jaw

having seen it all before.

Snakes and wabbits, in a land

where war is natural like the rain.

Sometimes there is no war,

but not for long, it's habit forming,

just like betel nut.

Sometimes though, 

the Buddha turns his head,

and the wabbit feels the snake's pain.

Reviews

[Einstein Noodle]

a scene all vets know and relate to ..very fine powerful closing lines ...points a biginning of understanding and compassion ..well done
E.

[Ed Hart]

the 'news paper' and reports just can't do what a good down-in-the-dirt poem can, the more tangential the words, the quieter the knife slips in...

[Taylor]

This is the first of your writing I've seen but it will not be the last. Wow! I remember being in the middle of absolutely nowhere (20 miles from the closest human habitation). My husband and I climbed into our cozy bed, "sugarplums dancing in our heads.'" We were awakened about an hour or so later by such a din -- even the center of New York City at the height of rush hour couldn't compare. And, yes, it was the wildlife hunting and scraping.

But then the poem turns serious -- "the wabbit feels the snake's pain." Ah, so perfect, it pierces my heart. Thank you so much for this beautiful poem.

[andrew mitchell]

wascal wabbit! A great fable, unfortunately war controls population growth.or the alternative a balloon getting bigger and bigger until we all will pop!

[CD Campbell]

I don't like to glorify war, but feel it's needed. Only a person with a warriors soul will understand that. If it wasn't for our aggressive nature, we would still be sitting in a cave somewhere scouring the countryside for berries and bugs. We are a flawed and passionate species as you so well demonstrate in this work. Your last two lines remind me of reading about "The Christmas Truce" in World War 1. Both sides of a trench are aware and capable of compassion. I enjoyed this. CD

[jacob erin-cilberto]

lots of pain....war does nobody any good...it just destroys...Bugs Bunny was a most intelligent cartoon character...and i can picture him chewing on his carrot, looking around at the destruction and saying "widiciulous"---

with the immersed humor, this poem really sends a powerful message...

why can't we all get along....snakes, wabbits and everyone else.

j.

[ANTO]

There's something about this that made me return to the beginning and re-read and re-read - each time getting lower in the condensated grass and viewing the world from a wabbits-eye view.
The imagery of the night-vision and phosphorous reminded me of the TV pics of Riyadh during the Gulf war. The war could be any war but the spirituality at the end tells us that no one - especially warriors escapes unscathed.
Powerful write.