I wear a button
Veterans for Peace
Somebody asks
What war were you in?
Vietnam
So was my brother, my mother,
My sister, my husband,
My son, my wife, my dad.
I'll ask how is
he or she doing.
He died in country,
She died of breast cancer
just last year.
He's homeless, drunk or in jail.
She works at the VA.
He teaches, she sings
It's a mix of questions
And responses but maybe
My button should say there is
"No Peace for Veterans".
Dan Shea
_____________________________________________
Little Brother
He knew how
To push my buttons
And followed me
Into the Marines
And to Vietnam
He took my place
And probably saved my life
Alive among the dead
They sent him home in a strait jacket
We share the pain
We share a history of family
His wounds are deeper than mine
I just want him to know
How much I love him
But God Dammit, wish you
Had just left me alone
Dead among the living
Love
Bro
Dan Shea
____________________________________________
No Words
She couldn't say don't go
There were no words
She watched as the bags were packed
She listened quietly, didn't make a fuss
There were no words
Phones rang, quiet conversations
Pictures were drawn with Dad's big gun
There were no words
Neighbors came with good wishes
Voices were kept hushed, but everybody knew
There were no words
More bags were packed and now we knew the day
Last kiss, last hug, "Be good, I love you"
There were no words
From an eight year old girl
Carolina Holness
________________________________________
Our Journey
All I could imagine was your return
but when the time came it would take a turn
I was not prepared for what would come
I thought it would be a time for fun
Instantly I could see that something was missing
for the love of my life I found myself wishing
I can see the emptiness in your eye,
at times it makes me start to cry
I want to help you but I don't know how
I wish I could fix it all right now
I hold it in, it's not about me
for I do not know how you must be
I don't understand how a soldier can be treated this way
There is so much that I have to say
with each day I feel we are healing
As the layers have begun peeling
There are so many times I feel alone
But I thank God each day that you are home.
Christy Jacobs
________________________________________
Oma Died
1. Niels, Oma died...Mom, I am getting deployed
3. Please put your M-16 in the overhead compartments with the muzzle facing to the rear of the plane.
12. Release chaff...Fuck we haven't even arrived yet, and already we're getting shot at?
8. Wife? I don't know. Home? See previous question.
11. Alone. People say I'm not, but where are they then?
13a. Someone has been in my bedroom.
9. I can't believe you told everyone! What were you thinking?
I was hurt&you don't understand.
4. 1st Casualty. Now it is on boys.
Fuck...it's been on since the first scud flew over.
5. At least I didn't really know him. There will be more.
7. Cross the border to Kuwait. Relief, breathe.
Two weeks later downtown Baghdad again; disillusioned.
2. We're taking the church bus to war.
13. No longer home, still alone.
6. GAS, GAS, GAS!!!!
15. I bought a shotgun, that wasnt smart.
16. I can't go back. I can't go back! PLEASE.
10. I wish I were dead.
18. I'm going to the morgue and overdose.
17. Going to drill exacerbates his symptoms.
20. Doig and Dorris and Wright are going back. Maybe I should?
14. I'm hurt. I'm weak.
19. Where have all my tears gone?
Niels Damman
_______________________________________________
The Last Field Dressing
Above and beyond all things considered, learn to forgive yourself.
I don't care what you did or didn't do,
try to forgive what you've considered the unforgivable.
For there will simply come a day when you finally understand
that there is absolutely nothing else left to do.
Bring loving people into your life,
because you cannot forgive yourself alone.
If this was possible, you would have done so a long time ago.
Expose emotional silence, so your wounds can finally be healed.
It takes time to heal, so give yourself that precious gift.
Let the self-inflicted guilt die, instead of you.
Mike Hastie
__________________________________________
Road March
Don't get me wrong - I know it was a dream
DO NOT get me wrong - I know it was a dream
NOT!
My dream went like this:
In the middle of the night, I sat up in the dark
And opened my eyes to see what was there
Dont get me wrong - this was an ordinary, middle-of-the-night dream
DO NOT get me wrong - this was an ordinary, middle-of-the-night dream
NOT!
This what I saw:
A soldier in camo on a dirt road
Without moving his feet, he marched to the foot of my bed
I saw he was young and strong and so very handsome
I saw his camo was clean with the collar starched
I looked down and saw his desert boots were new without a single stain
I looked up again and now saw only half of a face and one empty eye socket
Without speaking any words, I asked him what he wanted
Without moving his lips, he telegraphed back:
Be MY Mom
Without moving his arms, he showed me his clean hands with no blood or dirt under his nails
Without moving his arms, he reached for me as he telegraphed another plea:
Bring ME Home
I closed my eyes or maybe I just blinked
When a twin appeared by his side
Young and strong and handsome
Clean and starched with an identical half face and empty eye socket
Together without moving, with no signs of blood or gore, with no tears
The twins reached for me as they telegraphed:
Be OUR Mom, Bring US Home
I blinked again and then there were four marching in a row
I blinked again and then there were eight marching with four in a row
Then 16 with 4 to a row, Then 32 with 4 to a row
The road filled with half faces and empty eye sockets
Silently and respectfully, without moving, they marched on that dirt road at the foot of my bed
Until I heard their souls and their Purple Hearts start to roar
They telegraphed in unison:
Be OUR Mom
FOR GOD'S SAKE, BRING US HOME!
Cynthia Lefever
_________________________________________
A Soldier's Son
Once upon a time in a land so far, far away there was a proud young soldier holding his newborn son.
Witness to his first breath and flickering eyes opening to gaze upon his newborn father.
The father was a soldier and the son just a boy. The soldier father spoke of training, war
and a duty to defend our country.
The boy was instructed along the way and encouraged to attend West Point upon
reaching age, not to worry his appointment was secured.
So many years later in a land so far, far away a proud old soldier received a message.
The soldier had spent his life defending ideals, esprit de corps and an imagined way of life.
The words of his life were simple: Duty, Honor, Country.
Those three hallowed words reverently dictate what we can, will and must become. Always the soldier 1st, 2nd and last. The Core, The Core, The Core.
The message read: Your son joined the Army, he selected Infantry.
The old soldier's mind flashed to the charcoal bodies still steaming, to all those lifeless
bodies he stepped over throughout the years. The ghostly memories of those who gave
all to follow the soldiers path. Their smiles, the spark in their eyes, their hopes and dreams
and sons so far away.
For the soldier knew he killed his son. Not by enemy fire, but ideals and dreams of the
soldier father. For the son had placed his tiny feet into his fathers heavily worn boots,
not because he wanted to become a soldier. Far deeper it was, for the son only wanted to
feel his fathers love. He innocently tried to follow in his soldier fathers impossible
path. Out of Duty, Honor and Obligation.
The Soldier replied: Do not come, this path you cannot follow.
But the reply came to late. The son was already training, a Ranger accepted to Special
Forces, a soldiers soldier was he to be.
The soldier received a message in a land so far away. The message Read: Sir your son is gone. BREAK.
The soldier replied: Last message over. Clarify, where is my son? BREAK.
Sir, we do not know, we think he is AWOL, they say he refuses to return to unit.
Silence---Not possible--- DESERTER! UNTHINKABLE!! Betrayal of ideals, sorrow.
The old soldiers battle scars began to hurt, his armor fell crashing at his feet. Stabbed
from within. Where so many enemy failed, the son prevailed, piercing the soldier's
Achilles. Shattered ideals, a young lamb raised as sacrifice for dreams of the soldier father.
In a land so Far, Far away a final digital message read as follows:
Dad, your path I will not follow. Love, your son.
The old soldier replied: I deserted my son.---OUT.
Ken Kraft
_________________________________________
Sound Bytes
Hello ...
Yes ...
Mother ...
Captain ...
Roadside ...
Cannot say ...
Sustained ...
Don't know ...
Fallujah - Baghdad - Landstuhl
Critical - Open - Head - Trauma
Our boy ...
Aisle or window seat?
Cynthia Lefever
_________________________________________
Ode to Rory
Rory Dunn was blown up by a roadside bomb on his 22nd
birthday 5-26-2004 and suffered traumatic brain injury, the loss of his right eye and blinded in his left eye
He lost his hearing and part of his skull and still carries shrapnell in his head and suffers from PTSD. Two of hisbest friends were killed along side of him. His struggle to survive was further complicated by the military machine
upon his return to Walter Reed. The militarys priority was to be rid of this wounded hero. Rory and his Mom and dad advocate for the wounded warriors to be treated with respect and dignity until they have
recovered enough to return to society. I had the oportunity to meet this young man at a retreat to welcome home veterans of wars and was profoundly effected by he and his families courage. This song is
for you Rory.
chorus
The Generals come in says we'll shed a tear
Just as soon as you sign this paper right here
They'll be tears of joy that we don't have to share
The cost of the pain you will forever bear
verse
Fallujah Iraq and another sunny day
Time to go out for the grim game we play
We're loaded for bear and ready to kill
But today the killing will be on our bill
Flash of fire and the last sound I hear
Are the sounds of my friends as they leave this earth
And so I die but before I awake again
The smell of death is burned into my brain
Silent sounds from those who provide care
And though I can't hear the screaming is still there
chorus
Then the Generals come in says we'll shed a tear
Just as soon as you sign this paper right here
They'll be tears of joy that we don't have to share
The cost of the pain you will forever bear
verse
Best friends blown apart in Fallujah Iraq
Why am I the only one to come back
Wives left alone with a folded flag
A child with a medal and no memory of dad
They're spirit lives on within me
Forever grateful I will always be
I joke and I laugh to numb the pain
Gets me through the day as it happens over and over again
My body is mangled and full of the war
Sometimes I feel I can't give anymore, then the
chorus
Generals come in says we'll shed a tear
Just as soon as you sign this paper right here
They'll be tears of joy that we don't have to share
The cost of the pain you will forever bear
verse
Makes more courageous to stand up and fight
For the wounded warriors hell and their plight
Left to waste away in a hospital bed
Promises of glory the generals said
As the generals take advantage of our war inside
And offer us promises and belittle our pride
Pinning on medals with much fanfare
While secretly planning how to get us out of there
I will fight for my country on my own shores
until our young soldiers have to fight no more
chorus
And when Generals come in saying we'll shed a tear
Just as soon as you sign this paper right here
I'll be shedding tears of joy that the soldiers won't fear
Saying no to the Generals standing there.
