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I did not know how I would feel if I got the news.
You think you know, but you don; t.
I used to say the devil don't die.
But he did.
And with news of that loss, there came a flood of memories...
good, bad, violent, sweet.
The man was not created as men usually are.
Instead he was born from a conflict.
If only you could have been as good a husband, as good a father,
as you were a soldier.
If that were true, perhaps you could have died in my arms,
not in your self imposed prison.
You, like many of us, were destroyed by the very poison that gave you peace.
A decaying man in his haunted prison.
I hope you knew I didn't hate you...I didn't.
Your self loathing was more than anyone could have matched.
Did our memories fade, stopping by on occasion to taunt you?
Did the atrocities hang from your neck like an albatross?
I would have come if you had called, but your prison had
no visiting days.
Just you and the crumbling walls, singing in unison your death song.
Oh the life you could have led, the beauty you could have seen!
All gone from sight and touch by your imaginary bars,
and ultimately your passing.
I hope that you had a safe passage and I pray you were met by
peace and forgiveness of self.
I fotgave you a lifetime ago.
grace mariner
Friday, September 4, 2020
Topic(s) of this poem: war veterans
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