We join to rejoice for service to country.
I want to rejoice with all my heart,
but naught, the torrid shadow keeps me.
I sit and listen and am proud
Our troops fight for freedoms.
Against terrorism, you say?
What about the terror brought home?
The cost to our own.
I am honored we send aid to suppressed,
but at the expense of me
being permanently depressed?
Not just the soldiers give their life,
but children left parent-less, grandparent-less,
brother-less, or sister-less.
What about that profound expense?
Back to the terror brought home,
the madness, the nightmares, the PTSD.
Can what we see, be unseen?
Not so much.
I realize the horror endured,
but few as long as mine lasted.
How can I be gracious
when the sacrifice was me?
I cry more.
Does anyone hear me?
Does anyone give a damn?
Does everyone suffer
damaging collateral abuse?
I wonder sometimes,
all the above?
My heart cries.