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When I met the tall and amiable Vietnam War veteran, my shyness showed, yet, my throat dried and tightened when he softly spoke the words, "The war never goes away." All these humanity destroying wars never cease, soldier's names, faces, their eyes so well-worn. Their love letters sent home never faded in their immortality. The soldiers who made it home alive weren't given a hero's welcome. Their nightmares flashing as they wake up sweating in their sheets in the dark, yelling for respite from still hearing and being in the firefight, still seeing the VC, and witnessing the life breaths leaving mortally wounded brothers. Descending into the night's loneliness, the blue-gray of the t.v. on low volume, the sobbing of a loyal wife. Some marriages, families split apart with crushing sadness, many veterans homeless on U.S. streets, such a heartbreaking shame shadowing over the face of America the beauty. Surviving veteran's hair becomes snow-white, war wounds achingly arthritic, memories of their war buddies still sweetly preserved in their mind's images. Vietnam War veteran's reunions as their bones stiffen, but still salute their brothers and sisters in arms, their hats with the name of the war, the pride of their service. Many barely out of high school, with brothers of the same town, the same state, so much youth called up, joining brothers from other regions of the U.S. Blessed by God in their fraternity, their bravery. The deep red poppies represent their precious blood. I remember the 1960's-70's searing scars in my mind, weeping for the loss, the hurt in our hearts over the Vietnam War. MIA's, POW's, disappeared as aging families still pray, still wait. In the local Veteran's Cemetery, I met a woman in her eighties, she was a little confused, couldn't recall where her Vietnam veteran son's grave was located. She told me her daughter-in-law couldn't bear to visit his grave. We found his grave, his name glistening in the dew of that gentle May morning, as wrens and sparrows sang on blossomed boughs. A chance encounter became such a gift to honor her son, and his mother. To let her know he was not forgotten, but cherished, Welcome Home. ~

Copyright © | Year Posted 2023




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Date: 1/4/2024 1:08:00 PM
Regina, It’s Howard. Your ability to paint precise portraits of every kind from the harrowing to the heavenly has the literary world in awe. Not even the most minuscule detail escapes your eye. Congratulations of course Take good care Howard
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Regina Elliott
Date: 1/4/2024 1:25:00 PM
Thank you, my kind poetry friend. Your compliments are so generous. My warmest regards to you and yours. ~
Date: 1/4/2024 12:59:00 PM
Wonderful story telling Regina.. Congratulations on your placement in the contest..
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Regina Elliott
Date: 1/4/2024 1:07:00 PM
My deepest thank you for my 3rd Place podium finish, Silent One. Have a restful early January evening. ~
Date: 11/26/2023 9:38:00 AM
Very much enjoyed to read. My dad fought in Vietnam. It's so sad. Veteran homelessness is something I think veterans enjoy though.
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Regina Elliott
Date: 11/26/2023 1:13:00 PM
A huge "Welcome Home" to your Dad. There is a large homeless veterans shelter about a half hour by car from my home. So many young veterans stay there. I wonder what the stories about the families they come from are. The men don't look to be older than in their twenties. There are some older veterans staying there too. The women veterans live in another housing area.. Thank you, Susan, for reading my poem, and for your thoughtful comments. ~
Date: 11/24/2023 9:34:00 AM
Very well done. The hurt and the pain seems to last a lifetime of many generations. We need to stop torturing ourselves.....
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Regina Elliott
Date: 11/24/2023 11:41:00 AM
Thank you so much, Don. The last sentence in your comment really speaks to me. Enjoy your Thanksgiving weekend.

Book: Shattered Sighs