THE SCARS OF HELL
I remember Vietnam, when the soldiers came home
And we, as a country, turned our back on them
It broke something inside of me and I shed tears for them
I have never been a soldier, but I have looked into the face of death
Waiting, silently waiting, for my turn to die
I know the raw wounds that live in a person that experienced that
As it also lives inside of me
I think we, as a nation, do not appreciate those that give their lives
Risk their lives, and are wounded and broken
To give us freedom.
We, as a country, frequently do not appreciate the tremendous freedom we have
Freedom of speech, freedom of religion, freedom to protest
Even when we think our own government is in error
How many countries have that?
Sometimes I think we need to travel and see that lack of freedom
So we can come home and appreciate all that soldiers have given us
Their lives, their limbs, their children, their spouses
And in the end the scars live on inside their souls forever
Sometimes breaking them, making them unable to live in this world
So they isolate and retreat into their own
As we fail to give them what they need
The things they deserve to help them heal
I remember those soldiers coming home from Vietnam
I will never forget it, even though I was young
It left an impact on me that will always permeate my heart
For I too live with the scars of hell.
By carmurr
© 2011 carmurr
(All rights reserved)
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