Windtalker Poem by Cynthia Buhain-baello

He was a 'windtalker'
Navajo warrior of a secret tongue
Sworn to vows that are stronger
Than blood ties to which we belong
He came to my line suddenly
Talked in shadows, just a friend
Was grounded in Kandahar briefly
Handling lines of coded ends
Never gave me his name
But grim words painted scenes
Of the ugliness of war games
Like nothing he has ever seen.
As I read his lines they took me
To that place like the gates of hell
Sand, heat, and blood there freely
Flow with bullets and bombs that fell
The talk was a brief moment's respite
Brought him back for a glimpse of this Earth
He knew any time Death he could meet
He windtalked his heart for its worth.