The shadows.

Remembering my dear Sister. She always had concern for me.

Shadows..

(A poem to remember my dear sister. She left my world and I miss her voice.)

 
My sister told me. You  have changed and you saw too much s**t and
your mind and eyes are cold.

I told her, War isn’t personal. You do what you are told. Try to forget and move on.
 
I kissed her forehead and I told her. War was easy. This world falling apart around me.
I don’t know what to do with? That the crazy s**t I don’t understand.
 
“Up in the morning before five.
We don’t need no sunshine.
 Organization, discipline, three  square meals a day.
 Old SGT. say. It will be all okay.
Johnnie, you will be fine.
Old Army will teach you.
You don’t walk alone.”
 
Young boss at work asked me too many questions. I told  him it is not for him to understand. 
When you stand tall at attention. Salute a M-16, boots and helmet of a dead soldier.
You join a club of men and women who fought as one. We remember our lost friends.
The soldiers that lived must carry on with their buddies stories and memories.
Drink a beer on the day of their friends death. Can’t allow them to be forgotten.
 
“Lying on cold ground.
 Waiting for a hidden enemies.
 You slapped your magazine to ensure it is loaded right.
 You light up a cigarette and hope all things will be alright.
You pray for one more day, your pray for one more whiskey and
you pray for one more kiss from a Michigan gal.”

 
“Going to Iraq with my gun.
Going to kill some Iraqi sons. 
 Generals sent Division of soldiers.
Names don’t matter.
Reaching for more stars. 
Mama and Papa sit by the phones.
Wife and family pray for the day their soldier come home safe and sound.”

 
Soldiers talk about kids and woman. Takes up most of our time. 
No-one talks of dying. Ain’t no race or religion.
 Protect your friend back and he watched your back. 
Soldier do right and wrong things.

A lucky man can walk away from  all the s**t and forget. 
And the shadow of war find you one day.

 
 I stood with  a mother of my friend killed in Iraq.  She  held me up.
 I saluted her son’s gravestone. 
I go to the corner bar with other Veterans.
Drink to friends not here and missed.

Maybe baby sister is right.
The shadows are making me ugly and
the shadows are always with me.
 
                                   COYOTE

Author's Note

A re-write.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

When you have experienced war, the losses of friends, all the agonies and destruction, I would imagine it to be really difficult not to walk in shadow. Your sister saw that shadow and it must have grieved her. It is lovely you pay tribute to her today. You must miss her.

Chris

[Coyote Poetry]

I do. She was my biggest fan for my writing. Thank you dear Chris for reading and the kind words.

[duff]

I know the feeling of the silence if your brothers are still alive. Shadows and stories. Wait for the news to break. Breathe a sigh of relief. Nice work John

[Coyote Poetry]

Thank you Duff for reading and the comment. I do appreciate.

[Patricia Wedel]

dear John... we fought in part to avoid Socialism...
and yet we are being led in our own Country to
accomplish what others have paid the Price...
Thank you John for your Service... Long live
Freedom from tyranny. tenderly, Pat

[Coyote Poetry]

I agree dear Pat. Our world is going in the wrong direction. Thank you for reading and the comment.