I lost my legs in Afghanistan
Not like how my dad lost his heart in San Francisco
Little sharpened pencil flowers will grow inside my boots
I will be vigilant with every precise boom
in hopes of Afghan children jumping for recess bells
I left my heart and am forgotten
I will leave the noises and lights of war to the boozy night
Deployed to survive, just to return to the unknown
They mention me in an obscure way in the smell that burns my nose
I'll cut my hair and iron my Walmart shirt with precision
I lost my legs to the stars and strips, fifty times
It’s no coincidence I hear chanting dream voices, asking if I’ve lost my legs in Afghanistan
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Author:
Parisab (
Online) - Published: May 25th, 2023 01:46
- Comment from author about the poem: Memorial Day and stories I hear about war and post trauma …
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 12
Online)
Comments12
Parisab, Enjoyed "Forever Losses" so much. You are a vet also, I believe. You are welcome to visit my "A Memorial Day Tribute" It's short but "sweet".
I will do so, sir-my father was a vet and so are some of my patients who experience PTSD
Reminding in succinct style the debt we owe without preaching but a touch of responsible urging and I for one will shepherd my acknowledgement and like little sharpened pencil flowers foster it’s growth.
I am grateful for your attention and acknowledgement of our veterans. I am extending you a little sharpened pencil flower, poet friend…
I don't think we can ever fully understand the losses suffered by so many in service to their country. This poem is a powerful reminder, as we participate in ceremonies and lay wreaths on Memorial Day, of those who came home never to be the same again. Thank you dear poet.
Thank you for connecting with this poem’s emotions. I appreciate the read and positive comments.
We must never forget!
an important write, dear Poet
thank you
Thank you LB for never forgetting! Great to see your return and your feedback…
Powerful and poignant. Great poem. War is hell.
Unfortunately this topic is always a reminder! War is hell and PTSD ‘sucks’ as I’m told… Thank you for the read.
What a compelling title to start with. This is how poetry shines a light, revealing those plight we see and blatantly refuse to acknowledge. The shame of our righteous false self assurances is laid bare by these words. Of the lives we have so bravely sacrificed at the altars of glory seeking, traumatizing, those souls who literally gave themselves, forsaking those dear to them, for their fatherland flag. You weave a mighty pen dear Poet.
I am humbled each time I try to pen one story of one brave heart, at a time. All the while acknowledging that war is but a dirty business. Thank you for your kind comments…
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