The Silent Soldier
Once a six foot strong warrior, hero, a fighter.
Now a frail old man- three stone lighter.
His fire has cooled, his passion no more
looks sixty-five, barely a day past forty-four.
But the years have been tough since the start of the war,
tortured minds, broken men, the sights that he saw.
Three times he returned to that wretched place
and each time he came back, by the glory of grace.
But the last time he lost his leg at the knee,
wrong place, wrong time, damn IED.
Save this soldier, save his soul at best;
that was the prayer he heard as he lay at rest.
It was the padre‘s words, as he read his last right,
this wasn't the end, he had one final fight.
Against the odds placed against him to breathe by himself,
he never gave up, he fought to full health.
Being mobile at last, the recovery wasn’t too long,
he thought he had won his biggest battle, boy was he wrong.
His greatest challenge was yet to be explored,
the images and sounds in his head could no longer be ignored.
What he show's to the world is courage and vigour,
but on the inside he's destroyed, his tears getting bigger.
The pain, the memories, the flashbacks and what he dreams,
are all part of who he is now, he can still hear the screams.
The silent soldier too proud to talk about his sorrow,
he thinks time time alone is a healer, awaiting another tomorrow.
Now he's left with shattered dreams and a broken heart,
no job, no home, no wife, no life or love to restart.
He stands upright, chest out, head high at the memorial parade,
to the world he looks proud, but inside, abandoned and betrayed.
With his beret on his head and his medals on his chest,
feeling undervalued and a burden, not one of the Queens best.
This is the reality of a never ending war,
the lost limbs, scars and breaks are what we see, but there's more;
the pain on the inside the deep scars on the heart that'll never heal,
just get worse over time, silently, that's the biggest deal.
By Cpl Anonymous