The Forgotten Soldier

In the streamers and songs and confetti celebrations

Of a war once ending and soldiers come home –

A vigil set for my brother, murdered in battle,

And endless rejoicing when I had returned.

They assumed I was living, for I was alive

They did not realize death could walk in a living body.

My smile a mirror of those surrounding me –

Nothing of my joy produced from within.

None mourn a body that continues to move

Even if it becomes bereft of the soul.

Grief is a luxury allocated for the dead –

But none weave it into the song of the living.

Ghosts were merely a thing of the legend,

Until the children of the town encountered me.

Body spoke of suffering, bent shoulders spoke of anguish,

A heart to be a mirror is a heart that would scream.

Sounds around me faded into silence

Vibrant laughter like on a screen

The background music of my mind – tears

My heart still spilling on the battlefield.

Celebration of my return was for a few short moments

But the echoes of suffering reverberated through life.

Although I left, I still live in the battlefield,

Were no to notice the blackest of nights…

I am the walking dead

But they do mourn me, for I am still alive.

This post was inspired by the story of one of the IDF paramedics who was the first to arrive at the scene of the terrible helicopter crash of 1997. It highlights the plight of those who witness the suffering of war yet continue living. It is relevant to today’s soldiers, who return from battle alive, yet scarred and wounded from what they have seen. This post is meant to notice and pay tribute to their plight, and highlight the fact that in addition to the celebration of the soldiers’ return, there is more to their story of them coming home.