Shadows…
Shadows…
My sister told me. “You have changed. “
She told me. “You saw too much shit and your mind and eyes are cold..”
I told her,.
“War isn’t personal.
You do what you are told. Try to forget and move on”
I kissed her forehead.
I told her. “War was easy.
This world falling apart around me.
I don’t know what to do.?
That the crazy shit I don’t understand.”
Up in the morning before five.
We don’t need no sunshine.
Organization, discipline, three square meals a day.
Old SGT. say. “It will be all OK.”
Young boss at work asked me too many questions.
I told him it is not for him to understand.
When you stand tall at attention. Salute a M-16, boots and helmet of a dead soldier.
You join a club.
The soldiers that lived must carry on with their buddies stories and memories.
Drink a beer on the day of their friends death. Can’t allow them to be forgotten.
.
Lying on cold ground.
Waiting for a hidden enemies.
You slapped your magazine to insure it is loaded right and
you light up a cigarette and hope all things will be alright.
Going to Iraq with my gun,
going to kill some Iraqi sons.
Generals sent Division of soldiers.
Names don’t matter.
Reaching for more stars.
Mama and Papa sit by the phones.
Wife and family pray for the day their soldier come home safe and sound.
Soldiers talk about kids and woman.
Takes up most of our time.
No-one talks of dying.
Ain’t no race or religion.
Protect your friend back and he watched your back.
Soldier do right and wrong things.
A lucky man can walk away from all the shit and forget.
The shadow of war find you one day.
I stood with a mother of my friend killed in Iraq.
She held me up and
I saluted her son’s gravestone.
I go to the corner bar with other Veterans.
Drink to friends not here and missed.
Maybe baby sister is right.
The shadows are always with me.
COYOTE
Wow, this is such an evocative poem. Thank you for sharing your experiences, John.
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Thank you dear Lauren for reading and the comment. We can’t escape the shadows. We must own them.
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You’re nice welcome, dear John. And that is so true, I couldn’t agree more.
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Your poetry contains your heart and soul, John but never more so when you write about soldiers and war. You are right that most soldiers come home and become anti-war. Old soldiers ( and I count myself as one of those) become veterans who never forget their friends who have died.
Well done for such a well written, thought-provoking poem. ❤👩🦰❤
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I lost many friends in the new wars. We must remember them. Ensure they won’t be forgotten. Thank you dear Carolyn for reading and the comment.
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It is always a pleasure to read your poetry which tell such stories. Take care, John. ❤👩🦰❤
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Hey John: I don’t know if you know one of Australia’s great anti-war songs, ‘I Was Only Nineteen’ by Redgum; if not, you’re in for a treat: just Google, it’ll come up — I don’t know how to do links:(
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I used the song once. I wish we would learn. War doesn’t lead us to peace. Only to new hate. Thank you John for reading and the comment.
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no worries, John; I was going to say, have a good night but I forgot it’s probably mid-morning over there, so Have a good day 🙂
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i love stories/poems which are written with some personal experiences. or atleast the ones which seem personal.
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Most soldiers become anti-war. They know no-one wins in war. Thank you dear Muskan for reading and the comment.
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a magnificent poem, John; there is so much feeling and eloquence in your poems 🙂
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Thank you John. War teaches the young nothing. Our young people should be learning life, not war.
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My pleasure John.❤️
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❤️💕
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Thank you dear Grace.
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