Poems for Veterans Day…

MY SON HAS RETURNED          

 

My son returned from a place where terrorist roam,

My son returned, he has finally come home.

He’s my son, the one gone for so long;

He’s my son, though I can see there is something wrong.

 

I can see his body with all its limbs intact,

But there is a part of him missing, part he left in Iraq.

This young man that is so confused in his emotions,

Isn’t the son that left for war with immense determination.

 

He’s experiencing such pain, not able to deal with even minor stress and strife;

He’s unable to redirect his emotions, and get on with his life

When he sits to relax, his eyes glaze and into the distance he’ll stare;

Is he wondering if he can bring back the part of himself he left over there?

 

His mind is in a place so traumatized with untold memories;

A place filled with exhaustion, bombs, horror, seeing his comrades as casualties.

His eyes constantly move about observing all movement and sound;

As if he’s expecting trouble while on nightly patrol over enemy ground.

 

Occasionally with effort, he’ll laugh when others are near.

But it’s not his laugh, it’ s a sullen hesitant noise filled with sorrow and fear.

His smile is not as wide and doesn’t cover his entire face;

A somber expression like part of a mask is worn in its place.

 

He instantly reacts to any noise with reflexes wound tight;

Making me want to reach out and protect him with all my might.

He has problems communicating and carrying on a normal conversation;

This inability to focus adds to his inner confusion and frustration.

 

He’s never completely still; he’s restless, moving from place to place;

 

Mind and body ready to run if chased by something he isn’t ready to face.

 

There’s anguish in my heart experiencing his inconsideration and insensitivity;

To those who really love and care about him, his close friends and family.             

He avoids even the everyday issues with us hat are relevant and important;

Distancing himself while living a seemingly reckless life “in the moment”.

 

My entire soul wants to spend time discovering the man he’s become.

To understand where he’s going, I need to know where he’s coming from.

I want to share with him, reach out for his heart that is wounded,

But I need an opening from him, a chance to help him become grounded.

 

At times when we talk he’ll say things that give me a fragment of hope,

It’s these small inner glimpses of the boy I knew that helps me to cope.

My desire is to be the mom he needs, supporting this man, once my little boy;

To see him laughing, loving, and living wholeheartedly would be a tremendous joy.

 

My son has returned from a war that’s in a place so far away;

Yet, I realize now that his inner journey home may be just a baby step each day.

                       © 2009 Kathy Guzzo (Written for a friend explaining what to expect when her son returned)

 

HERO, HEROIC, HEROISM

 

What is a hero?  Is there a universal definition?

How does one become a hero? One act or many?

Who decides who’s a hero, them, you or me?

 

Heroism…the act of displaying great abilities,

earning millions of dollars, or stardom through productions?

Maybe it’s from great speeches by politicians?

 

Heroic.., a word used casually in daily small talk.

Overused in conversation, all forms of the word.

Bring about a menial response when heard .

 

A HERO…  is one who has demonstrated great courage,

 Admired for strength of character shown humbly,

HEROISM…remarkable physical or moral bravery.

 

We’ve made them into words with no true meaning.

HEROIC… an act done in response to a desperate situation,

Using sheer will and complete determination.

 

Learn the true meaning.

 

It’s not athletes, movie stars, or

Millionaires, though for some of these admiration is due,

HERO, HEROIC, HEROISM, it’s truly an elite few.       

More Than A Number

 

4,000 NOW DEAD, OVER 27,000 INJURED!

An event being noted as a milestone in the death toll in the war on terrorism;

Yet, these aren’t just numbers that should be recognized in and of themselves,

There is so much more to these numerals than the total of casualties.

Each has a name, a hometown, loved ones still grieving and reliving memories.

 

The number itself shouldn’t be given recognition or significance.

It’s the men and women represented, each worthy of that special honor of ‘war hero’.

Whether the first or the four-thousandth, each one is of importance and value.

Every one gave of themselves, every one deserves the utmost honor

As a true American, a loyal, courageous patriot, not a simple number.

 

They fought for a purpose, the freedom our country was founded on.

Their choice to serve in a time of war was the road less traveled.

Each number reflects a life cut short, or bodies and minds forever changed.

They and their families never again to live in past normalcy,

To be whole, or for life to be restored completely.

 

As a soldier once said, “Not one is more important then another.”

And. “Whether the first or the last, they all hurt, but we have to go on.”

Those going on, still in the fight need motivation, our support and loyalty,

Assurance that if they become a casualty they’ll be remembered for who they are,

 not just as the next tally.

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Comments

  1. Ann Lyons says:

    Very heartfelt. Everyone should read.

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