Colin F. Jones
Awarded: January 19, 2005Signals made by smoke from fires of friends
The echo of distant wars to me portends,
That wrack the minds of those who suffer so,
From that deep torment of the inner foe.
They learn to cope, those who would pertain,
To that insidious horror that brings them pain,
And wrecks their dreams of Angels and denies
Them precious sleep lost to their fruitless cries.
Time remedies most foul ills and most effects,
Yet PTSD in arrogance time rejects.
Where there’s no cure the foe is never done,
And the losing battle on Earth is never won,
Yet comfort comes from friends with knowing hand,
For only friends and God can understand.
©Copyright November 15, 2004 by Colin f. Jones