“The Forgotten Return”

 

Some came home with medals bright,

And cheers that filled the mourning night,

But others lay where no flags wave,

Beneath the soil, no soul to save.

 

And then there are the ones who roam,

Their bodies back, their minds alone,

Haunted by what they can’t unsee,

A war that clings eternally.

 

The ones whose nights are endless gray,

Who walks through life, then fades away,

Not by bullet, shell, or gun,

But by the weight of battles won.

 

A country quick to call them brave,

But slow to lift, too late to save,

Leaving soldiers, sons, and friends,

To fight a war that never ends.

 

Some made it back but not alive,

Their hearts are too broken to survive,

A quiet room, a final breath,

Another casualty of neglect.

 

We speak their names, we bear their ghosts,

In whispered prayers, in empty toasts,

For those the war would never leave,

For those who died, for those who grieve.

 

They are not gone — they live, they stay,

In shadows cast on Veterans Day,

In hollow eyes, in sleepless nights,

In silent screams, in unseen fights.

 

A nation owes a debt unpaid,

For promises it never made,

To heal the wounds it chose to hide,

To stand with those it cast aside.

 

So, raise a glass, a flag, a voice,

For those who never had a choice,

For every soul that war has claimed,

And those who are left, still remained!

 

©David Strange