War Stories

When I watch a war story

I weep.

I know what that is.

That brother-in-arms feeling.

The wash of warm discontent you feel with those you’ve fought with

Fought for.

Fought.

And I know what it is to lose them.

To lose those people who meant something.

Meant you were still holding on.

I’ve never shot a man

But I’ve sat beside the graves and wept for my fallen comrades.

The people I lost along this path as we battled just to survive.

And I’ll never heal from that.

I will always weep for them.

I hope I always weep for them.

 They meant something to me once

I hope they always mean something to me.

I hope they never die in vain.

So even now I miss them.

Miss the way our smiles crossed that stormy existence that was the turmoil

But I’m not going to let that loss hold me back.

I’m diving head first in the deep end

No hope of swimming.

After all,

None of us get out of this alive.