[Newspoetry] Bringing Home the Troops

[DL Emerick]

They'll never come back,

Those soldiers in Iraq,

They'll never come back.

 

Body bags bring back nothing,

Nothing essential to them,

Just some bones to bury,

Some body in an iron box,

Draped by a bright flag,

Salute snapped one last time,

Rifles fired into the air,

Mourns of a wailing horn.

 

The dead are somewhat lucky ones,

They achieve a sort of final rest,

As their lives are still fresh dead,

Still recalled by their friends.

 

The rest will never come back

Not from battle fields far away,

While their lives shriveled down

And their bodies were possessed

By some alien spirit seizing hold.

 

When their bodies return home,

Their friends pat their backs,

Hug and kiss them tenderly,

These bodies where ghosts dwell,

And, sensing the difference,

They whisper to themselves,

War has changed him,

Mistaking possession for change.

 

Their bodies go on living,

But they never come back

To themselves, as they were.

 

They'll never come back,

Those soldiers in Iraq,

They'll never come back.

 

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