But is it July 4th for Me
It comes around every year,
My body feels all the fear.
My pulse escalates,
My tears fall, and my heart breaks.
It happens all the time,
In all my dreams, in every year.
There is no need to cheer,
All I want to do is disappear.
I want to hide, but I am denied.
I want to forget, yet I forever see the threat.
The dreams and nightmares,
Of my many prayers.
All I see are the bodies of the dead.
The loud music is my calm,
Yet I still see the blood of the people dying.
They call it P.T.S.D.
We call it time served, and my life observed.
The search dogs and the veterans have seen it all,
So, time after time, year after year,
It's as clear as it appears,
We feel the fear along with our peers.
We cry as we see the pain and despair.
The nightmares never go away.
July 4th is no celebration.
We huddle, we hide as we remember all who died.
The screams.
The fireworks.
Just let me be.
We'll be okay on Morrow's Eve.
Copyright © Shirley Hudson | Year Posted 2024
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