The Heroes Return

 

The Heroes Return

When the walking wounded, hobble home, bringing with them, another battle to win,

Wrestling with the fight, that refuses to end, the ruthless war, actively raging within.

Battle scared soldiers, many missing their limbs, the parts, they had to leave behind,

Facing new mountains to climb, the debris of war, lurking inside, misshapen minds.

As they grapple with the demons inside, invisible wounds, upsetting their inner core,

Struggling with shellshock, and horrifying flashbacks, replaying all the terrors of war.

Mutilated forms, bearing disfigured faces, and distorted skin, soldiers lucky to survive,

Mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, and children, really glad, they have returned alive.

How can the ignorant, begin to comprehend, what each soldier, was dragged through,

With the scars and trauma, imprinted in their brains, their mindsets totally screwed?

Brave soldiers wounded in action, facing guilt, for their comrades, left at the frontline,

With fractured spirits, struggling each day, haunted with visions, dreading nighttime.

Their emotions way out of kilter, as sudden sounds, loudly make, an incessant threat,

Living on tender hooks, still holding on to the chaos, that they are powerless, to forget.

Each day wearing them down, at the setting of the sun, facing the anarchy of confusion,

Lashing out, in the dark of night, fighting the reality that they see, within each illusion.

As the horrendous movies, keep recurring, within their dreams, relentlessly replaying,

Incapable of escaping the madness of war, death, and destruction, persistently staying.

Unable to break the bonds, that hold them fast, to purge their life, of that awful load,

Suspended in constant state, set to snap, without warning sent back, into battle mode.

Confronted with people, who have no idea, of the terrifying battles, that were fought,

Armchair experts, who sat in comfort, and politicians who stood by, knowing naught.

Just like the generals, who marked, the lines on maps, the positions to be defended,

While the brave soldiers, got the job done, for freedom’s cause, their lives upended.

When you see the homeless, in cardboard shacks, with their faces scared and burned,

Be aware, that the awful war, is far from over, even though the heroes have returned.

Written By: Alan.Clark@WW1POET (June 2024)