The Huey
Oh, bringer of passion, you stir the heart’s essence,
With blades that lift the chariots of heaven high.
With the ink of my spirit, my soul spills for in verse,
Singing, secrets, locked within, hidden from the eye.
I chase away longing with the strength of forbearance,
For each soul meets God with the intentions it bears,
‘Lest the fire of separation from my Falcon’s wings, ignites despair.
When her roar echoes in the air,
I need no remedy for the burdens I wear.
This iconic bird inspired Hollywood's art,
A fascination measured by scales of mortal design.
Her jet engine howls through the night,
A response to the prairie wolves’ haunting call, divine.
Weather rising or setting, the sun's embrace
Kisses her silhouette, turning valleys to sacred ground.
She returns me to Sarfait, where monsoon clouds trace,
Mountains dressed in khareef, where verdant life is found.
We navigate these Giants with reverent grace,
Then descend into a tempest of swirling force.
As clouds shed their garments, wild seas we face
The angry waves, like a volcano growl as we course.
I see the waves, a carpet shaken by a youth,
Folding violently; oh, the horror within their thrall!
Then like a falling star, our brave bird descends,
Guided by a Nizwa’s smoke grenade, a beckoning call.
We bring them victory: soldiers, rations, and shells,
The Huey, mother of battalions, fierce as hellfire’s swell.
With countless roles, she bears no blame,
Responsive to the pilots tender claim.
Finding those who steer her with a love that grows,
Other treasures pale beside what this devotion shows.
Oh, to hear her magic voice again,
When my longing heart is stirred or led astray.
No sound shakes me like that music, imprinted in my brain,
Awakening memories of the brave, long locked away.
Let my poetry dance, making every knight sway.
The knights who were a witness to the tales we hold, unraveling their threads.
Flowing from Hormuz’s islands to Habroot’s stronghold,
Overflowing stories that restore our youthfulness,
Memories that linger as life gently fades,
Soldiers’ recollections are proud, their virtue never frayed.
In the embrace of security, they stand tall.
When our novice wields his rifle,
The enemy rots in his hole, defeated, small.
The glories of our army spread like morning light,
Chasing dark dreams of the aggressor into flight.
Peace be upon our falcons, our brave brigade,
Every martyr, every drop of blood paid.
Salute the soldiers, swift as jinn in the night,
Their efforts, Blaze with honor, a radiant site.
Salute the watchful eye through the night’s embrace.
In the chill of Mount Shams or the heat of the dunes we brace.
Salute the tall mountains, the plains where we soared,
And the sea with its tender, eternal accord.
Salute Samhan, as timeless as it's ancient name,
Though it's memories are stolen by times cruel game.
Salute Tiwi, Kumzar, and Yiqa bright,
Salute every valley, every shadow in sight.
Salute all lands and their people,
Every lover of poetry, every heart that recites.
The Huey shall soar above all that flies.
A beacon of light when the world darkens and cries.
Acts that cannot be bought with the weight of gold,
Will forever be treasures, proud banners. Behold!
