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Long way home . . . . A soldiers Return
By Slingnasty
 This old box covered in dust  .  .  .  .  Just as it
always was
olive green  metal corner   I. D. number  and last name
as I open it emotions overwhelm
so long ago I closed and locked
the joy,pain,and misery insideÂ
one last mission for us to complete
as I hold tears from a cascading ride
The sadness swelling as I pull out my old uniform
blue and red with hints of white
gold tassled shoulders I earned with pride
You remember this baby? Â . Â . Â . Â .Yes the Marines
always dressed the best  .  .  .  .she said
Digging deeper under those dusty,wrinkled,faded blues
the medals  .  .  .  .  .  .medals earned
for protecting family  .  .  .  .
so that family could protect each of you
how many times did we look into deaths maw  .  .  .  !
not for stupid medals  .  .  .  but to save eachother for another
day
In the top left and running the length top and bottom edgeÂ
my side arm and rifle  .  .  .  .  requistion formed all
the way home
never registered  .  .  .  .  never fired since
these guns the extension of me
still as clean and useful as they were when put away
yet tainted by unending memories
as I pull them out  .  .  .  .  .  .  flashbacks  .
 .
pinpoint to when the trigers were pulled
its not the knowing  .  .  .  .but the knowing when and where
the bullets
struck
those are the memories I hate  .  .  .  .
Baby what about these  .  .  .  ?   Leave them in there
you know I hate guns  .  .  .  .  especially those
The very bottom  nothing but pictures  .  .  .  .All face
down
so many years past  .  .  .  .  and yet I am still afraid
afraid to look at the times,the faces,the family  .  .  .  .
The one thing that made me a Hero in her eye
was in reality where my cowardice lay  .  .  .  .
I only ran into harms way to  .  .  .  .
save myself the whitness of loosing family
She always said  Well baby that is what bravery is about
 .  .  .  .  . Yet I do not feel brave
As I repack putting every thing back in its place
removing the medals  .  .  .  . I put your favorite wedding
picture
snuggled tight to your ashes  .  .  .  .Draped in my blues
I tuck you in . Â . Â . Â . Â . Â as to protect
with the memories you loved the most about me
 .  .  .  .  .The things I hated
Yes Baby  .  .  .  .  The medals are on the mantle
Your solider boy is home  .  .  .  .
Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited.
Ask the author first.
Copyright 2012 Slingnasty
Published on Tuesday, March 8, 2016.
Filed under:
"Short Story"
Comments on "Long way home . . . . A soldiers Return"
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A former member wrote:
My father gave me one of those ammo boxes he had in the Army. I put pictures in there I cannot bear to look at anymore. One thing is for certain, I'll never forget the smell of the uniforms he wore, and the tears in his eyes when had to leave for months.
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On Sunday, November 11, 2012, Slingnasty
(138)
wrote:
Ps some typos again posted from my phone hard to see sometimes and the touch pad s iffy at best! Thanks
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On Saturday, November 10, 2012, FadedBlues
(2168) wrote:
...this is outstanding, Sling. it's from those emotions that can tear you up. or fall into a poem that stays, really stays...
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On Saturday, November 10, 2012, Devilish
(2657) wrote:
Oh my god where have you been. this is nothing like anything you've ever posted. I love this. damn. i don't know how to comment. I wanna cry i wanna read it again. i wanna hug you. wow. this is powerful and overwhelming.
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On Saturday, November 10, 2012, Magdalena
(614) wrote:
Haunting and poignant S. I know how it feels, not being able to look into that box, I still cannot bring myself to look at my fathers pictures yet and it's been over a year since he passed. In time.... This is a wonderfully touching write with much depth.... A great pen.
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