A Veteran Is Surprised by Militarization

We came down from the Chiricahua Mountains,

went even closer to the border, hiked rocky

hillsides off-road, spotted a five-striped sparrow,

so fine, yet overshadowed by the rotor noise

of the sporadic helicopter overhead. Our guide

said to hold up our binoculars, let them know

we were only birdwatchers, and we complied,

having already passed trucks stopped in the desert,

unloading ATVs that armed and armored men

rode off. Earlier, I’d asked about the tethered

gray dirigibles in the otherwise cloudless sky,

was told they were platforms for surveillance.

Overseas for decades, much of it in conflict

areas, I’d never seen such heavy arms, such war

materiel in my country, not outside military

bases. The border sun was bright, our pace

slow, but still, I had to close my eyes, breath

caught with twinges of fear and vertigo, darkness

in waves like a mirage, waves of sparrows fallen

by vertiginous plunge or slow slump, in the desert,

unseen by any person, me among them.