One of the Lucky Ones
Or so they said
when I returned to their praises
and thanks for my service,
gratified their prayers were answered
and I was a home town hero
though not to everyone
given the unpopularity of the long war
and the hasty retreat that signaled
it was all for nothing, pointless,
too many lives lost to no purpose
other than political posturing.
But for some, I was a symbol
of something worthy, patriotism
however misplaced, and survival.
Look at him, they marveled,
medals on his chest,
and not a wound anywhere,
not so much as a scratch,
looking just as he did
when he left us
with that same boyish smile.
We feared we might
never see him again,
and here he is, our boy,
back in the swing of things
without a word of complaint
or regret, happy to be home
as we are to have him here,
back in one piece
and resuming his interrupted life
without a backward glance
at what happened over there,
(we are careful not to ask
because what is important
is that he has come back to us
untouched and untroubled).
Or so they said.
At night, I close my eyes
hoping not to see
what I know is waiting for me,
the ambush of remembrance
in a silent movie that begins
with a brilliant, soundless explosion,
a flash of color
that pierces me like shrapnel
and signals the attack
none of us survived
until I open my eyes again
and see to my surprise
nothing has changed, nothing has happened
and I am just as I was,
exceptionally fortunate, so they said,
one of the lucky ones
for whom the past is past.
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Powerful words about the war of your generation and the one I was born into. May these veterans be thanked today for their service regardless and seek peace 🕊️. Excellent🙏