Home but Not Returned
Faced with Drill Instructors filled with rage.
Graduate camp with the highest amount of pride.
Now headed to Afghanistan awaiting a very long ride.
Bullets fly past the men's heads with no known destination
They reconsider their choice to defend their nation.
Caught under fire, the ones hit just lie and moan.
All this means is that their location is known.
The adrenaline rush of death knocking on their front door.
The thrill of this experience, there is nothing more.
The attackers' luck of staying alive, has surly slid.
They check the dead bodies, to find a little kid.
Returning home for the Fourth of July is the best news to hear.
The things the men have gone through, only one thing is feared:
Hiding from fireworks to avoid the memories,
Of the many attacks, brought to them by their enemies.
For the rest of their lives, remembering the lives they've seen pass.
Their many brothers falling in a pile of brass.
The training protects these soldiers from damage from any kind.
But no one can see what goes on in their mind.
Their live bodies may come home, away from the field,
But their memories from their days overseas, forever concealed.
Share This Poem
This Poems Story
Growing up, I've always looked at out nation's military with respect. I've also noticed that our service men and women come home from being deployed and their struggles and hardships to unnoticed. Through this poem, I wanted to let people know that their work is noticed and appreciated. I also wanted to say that through their hardships, they should be commemorated for that as well, not just the uniform.