Nick Burgin Poem by Luke Easter

Many are those who will come of age into adulthood at 17,
They have NFL, MLB, NBA, NHL also PGA Tour dreams,
And with that hope comes desires of U.S. Treasury green,
But not for, “The Few, The Chosen, United States Marine.”

They come from farmlands, inner cities and upper class burbs,
By trusting dare their dream be prematurely kicked to the curb?
And experiencing more deaths than delivering pizzas part time,
Overwhelming, jarring, dangerous, leaving part of himself behind.

It’s one thing to be in support, even on the battlefield front lines,
But pulling, “mortuary duty” is presenting reason without rhyme,
PTSD can rearrange even the most hardened, sophisticated mind,
Enlisting before being able to vote, “can we save one this time? ”

Whoever coined the phrase, 'no unit should leave the dead behind, '
Don’t get into a testosterone contest about who said it first online,
Even enemy soldiers deserve a decent burial for who can discern?
Whether or not the deceased was a coward or hero being their turn.

Truth is, every country in war proclaims their side is justified right?
Otherwise, would there really be a need for any two nations to fight?
Normal for an ordinary person to see trouble turn the other way, run,
Yet, trained for combat, soldiers push forward no matter how young.

Extremely tough turning the switch of reality of death in war on & off,
With the best doctors & medication it can take months to loose a cough,
Nor is it possible to take trained killing machines from war then expect,
Smooth transition in civilian life without assistance, this is pure neglect.

Soldiers aren’t found in the playground, they are not trained on the beach,
With the same diligent preparation for war we should be willing to teach,
And not be so readily available to withdraw aid by diminishing their rights,
Especially when we ship them off to a foreign land and order them to fight.