The Other Things We Carry
It's been 35 years since a Huey's whine
And midnight missions in the nick of time
It's been 35 years since a claymore mine
And ground attacks so clear in your mind.
And only yesterday it was 1969
We carried Ammo, and Rockets, and beer, and mail
We carried body bags that would make you wail
We carried friends in our arms, as we turned pale
We carried buckets of water to wash out blood stale
We carried medals of valor for feats unbelieved
We carried purple hearts for wounds we received
But most of all we carried each other
Today we carry other things, some real, some imagined
We carry cancer of every kind known to man
Agent Orange poisoning,
and Malaria,
and Lymphoma,
and Diabetes,
and Hepatitis C,
And many still have PTSD.
We carry arms with no hands,
and legs with no feet,
and scars both mental and real.
We carry crutches and walkers,
and wheelchairs and canes,
with honor it's no big deal.
We carry horror stories of the Veterans Administration,
of six months waits,
and lack of funds,
and shoddy care,
of indifferent employees,
and crummy food,
and broken promises
and downright lies.
But we still carry each other
We carry memories from the past,
and pictures of our youth
and through it all still have our dignity.
For many it is all we have.
Now and then, there are times when panic will set in and we have hideous dreams,
And people squeal,
they twitch and make moaning sounds,
and cover their heads and say "Dear God",
and hug the pillow and cringe and beg for the dreams to stop,
and make stupid promises to themselves and God and their wives,
hoping they will all go away,
but they don't.
But we still carry each other.
We carry the weight of shattered dreams,
and broken marriages,
and deformed children with insidious wounds,
and twisted faces,
and deformed legs,
and broken spines,
lost for all time.
We carry the thoughts of the future,
of honor and duty,
and pride,
and tradition.
We carry fear for our children in far off lands,
The outcome can only be in Gods hands
The midnight runs as the Huey whines,
The rescue missions in the nick of time,
The muffled blast of a claymore mine,
And only yesterday it was 1969.
But we still carry each other.
Ron Leonard
"Wars don't determine who wins, they only determine who is left"