Anne G & J.M.G.
I left home as a boy, all shiny and new, intent on defending, country and home.
A greenhorn, a newbie, a stranger to war, belief in my pocket, hope in my heart.
Brimming with pride, wide-eyed and young.
Filled with idealism, concepts and views.
A modern crusader willing to fight, for a world set on fire, by zealots and loons.
A boy overseas, armed to the teeth. Convinced I'd be part of saving our world.
Injustice decried, and battle lines drawn, blood, sweat and tears, shed by our own.
Women and men, lost to the ages, lost to the wars, and P.T.S.D.
We fought to the death with conviction and pride.
Only to learn, albeit to late, no manner of death, will allow you to rest.
Some did survive, as I, so I thought. Upended, aloof, I soon returned home.
A shell of a man, lost and confused. All that remained was a ghost from the past.
Fragments of brilliance, conscience and self.
FLASHES and bursts of colors and sounds, course through the minefields of my own injured brain.
Recesses so dark, no light can be seen, at the end of the tunnel, of P.T.S.D.
NOTE FROM THE AUTHORS:
Written in recognition of all the women and men who have fought to preserve Democracy and Freedom and have ultimately sacrificed everything for love of home and country. We recognize the ongoing struggle of our Veterans who have returned injured and now depend on us to support their journey to recovery. We salute you all and promise to have your 6.
I write because I am:
Driven to distraction by the inequities of the society in which we live.
Motivated by cruelty, abuse, ignorance and indifference.
My intention:To poke, prod and provoke!
"Moderation is a fatal thing. Nothing succeeds like excess." - Oscar Wilde