The Long Road

For some veterans the war just never ends. It follows you home when persecuted by a past that never relents. Forced to answer so many questions never before asked, a man is haunted by memories of a long-lost past. Was he right to serve his country when the price he had to pay was so much more than he could bear today? Why did a select few so valiantly survive when so many others are no longer alive? What rules of engagement should now be observed, having lost the respect so rightfully deserved? Surviving a violent ordeal, perpetuated by memory in his own borrowed time, honourably fighting with the utmost zeal can never be a crime. Is it really true, no one should question why, so many died only for a few, always in service of a lie, or should we just pretend that democracy we must defend... by simply taking pride in believing those who lied? War makes no provisions for those who fight unafraid, living and dying by decisions... always so politically made. Dark are the forces so often at play that rarely ever endorse the shining light of day. Always know your enemy before declaring war, manifest is the destiny one should try not to ignore. While so many bled in Sigma war games once played, can the living teach the dead about being betrayed? Facing every threat by simply going to war is a precedent once set that we must now deplore. The truth suffers the agony of a heartless castration, if questioning a strategy means questioning a nation. So cruel is the plan of inviting a soldier to his own wake, never ask a man to be the last one to die for a mistake. Tomorrow is a privilege a man must earn every day, in life the greatest sacrilege is your own soul to betray. Does it serve the greater good that some should sacrifice all, or is the meaning of manhood just another brick in the wall? Pledging allegiance to the flag, and the republic for which it stands, may imply wearing a dog tag, while serving in foreign lands. Returning home is a dream not always to come true, of all sacrifices the supreme... is meant only for a few. As another life has ended far from where it began, those who offended the uniform rarely respected the man. Though many scars we have to bear, some prefer just to conceal... the old pain a soldier never wears, while fighting just to heal. Some people live in the past as this is the closest they will ever get to the loved ones left behind, to whom life has been so unkind. Peace will only arrive when finally setting aside the trauma of a violent past that simply refuses to die. And so my brother, if you should find yourself alone, having sacrificed all for another, we always take care of our own! No war is ever won until you finally hear the call that peace may come to one, but it never comes to all.