The Return
We went away at seventeen,
Still green about the ears,
Not knowing that in between
The war and later years
We would be haunted to the core,
Damaged in the head.
We did not return from war;
We brought it home instead.
The fight out there was not as loud
As is the fight inside;
It blankets me, just like a shroud;
Life is a wild ride.
We walk the street, the city roam;
Inside, our souls are dead.
From war we never came back home,
but stayed with it instead.
It’s been so long, but still we see
Their faces in our dreams;
The war goes on for you and me,
Or at least, it seems.
But within, we find our strength,
Our weakness, darkness, light,
We’ve fought and won the war at length,
Out of love, or spite.
I write inside my little book
My verses and my lines;
All the things war from me took
Will come back and be mine.
I hope that you don’t walk alone,
I pray that you still feel.
From war I never came back home,
But from the war I’ll heal.
Copyright © Daniel Bailey | Year Posted 2025
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