The Veteran

Poetry

Photo by Molly Mindrup on Unsplash

I am a forgotten man with a broomstick rifle — a salute with fingers chopped off by a Grenade.

I am a purple wound, a red ribbon of gallantry, and the voice of a half-written creed.

I am a pair of boots still wet in the dust. A uniform hidden in shame and fist-clinched in yesterday.

I am honor, duty, respect, selfless service, integrity, brotherhood, and sacrifice.

I am a warrior, a deaf man in a wheelchair carrying a body without legs. A beret without a head, a beggar on the street, a pill of morphine, a drunk, a husband, son, father, friend.

I am a coffin hugged by Stars and Stripes. A name engraved in concrete, a shelter of pride, a relic of war, and a scar of battle. I am a soldier.