13 July, 2007
author: Rebecca Ditch-Hammack (aka Dreamer)
Bits and pieces of naiveté left on the sands of another world
Ghosts of firefights follow you home
Forgotten memories cause sudden fears of reaction
Even when home, no longer is the illusion of safety taken for granted
As sudden loud sounds send you seeking cover from the invisible enemy
You sit, back to the wall, always watching for imagined attack
Haunted you seek solitude away from crowds
Bullets and air attack sirens still echo as you sleep
Startled movements give away the tale you to try to hide
Silent you don't speak. then snap hurtful words without reason
Too much to watch... too much input to relax
Always on guard, always ready to fight
Drinking away the past... drinking away the ghosts
But they still haunt when least expected
No matter how hard you try to forget
Something trips the triggers
Sirens, crowds, shouts, fireworks.
Scarred, the mental wounds never fully heal
In the darkness of the corners of your mind it rages on..
After war.... there is never peace
------- Author's Notes -------
I will never fully know.... But I do understand
Comments on this poem/writing:
|Red Dragon (22.214.171.124) -- Friday, July 13 2007, 07:26 am|
The last is a true statement..."After war...there is never peace" >>>>everything shattered...Nice one
|Shiloh (126.96.36.199) -- Wednesday, July 18 2007, 08:16 pm|
You have captured the whole thing quite well. Shell Shock, Battle Fatigue, PTSD... all names used to try to explain or pigeon-hole the problem, but no one understands that the problem is the act of war itself. It would be so beautiful if we could find another way to serve up the banquet for the greed that goes into causing wars.
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