My Heart Cries

We join to rejoice for service to the country.

I cry.

I want to rejoice with all my heart,

but naught, the torrid shadow keeps me.

I sit and listen and am proud

Our troops fight for freedom.

Against terrorism, you say?

What about the terror brought home?

The cost to our own.

I am honored we send aid to suppressed,

but at the expense of me

being permanently depressed?

Not just the soldiers give their life,

but children left parent-less, grandparent-less,

brother-less, or sister-less.

What about that profound expense?

Back to the terror brought home,

the madness, the nightmares, the PTSD.

Can what we see be unseen?

Not so much.

I realize the horror endured,

but few as long as mine lasted.

How can I be gracious

when the sacrifice was me?

I cry more.

Does anyone hear me?

Does anyone give a damn?

Does everyone suffer

damaging collateral abuse?

I wonder sometimes,

all the above?

My Heart Cries.