Colin F. Jones


He retains that which is meant to be forgotten,
Like a garment torn but worn due to its cotton,
The consequence that recurring moments last,
To plague the mind with memories from the past.
Some can suppress the torment it produces,
But to a despairing state of mind it oft seduces,
Most of those soldiers who have a gentle core,
An essence made for peace and not for war.
What can we do to give our brothers peace,
And to these sons of Mothers give release,
Except to let them know we all got home,
And that they do not suffer all alone,
For together we all stood to fight the foe,
And still we fight as brothers, toe to toe.