Mark I. Kirkmeyer


Soldiers answer their nation’s call
Around them hell erupts
The hold on to a life line
The dream of going home
Wanna go home

The Brass calls it victory
Troops withdraw
Planes hop scotch home
Families to hug
Soldiers have changed

The smells return
Smoke, charcoal, gunpowder
The sounds are there
Braking glass, explosions, gunfire
Is it a dream?

The feel is there
Heat, weight, caress of steel, blocking pain
The sights
Muzzle flashes, car attacks, buildings aflame
It’s not a dream

This is my home
The battlefield, the combat zone
Raised half a block from the FOB
Former friends now enemies
War at home

Can’t get close to anyone
Can’t let my guard down
Always mindful the backstabber
I can never go home
Home was destroyed

Author’s Note: You see it is not about coming home for me. I’ve been home, seen it burning. It was the battlefield Becca and I shared. It’s about hope. Hope for a future. Hope that I can do something useful. Hope that I will be able to relieve my pain so that I don’t constantly feel like crying.

Health requires body, mind, and spirit. When one element is out of position the others will deviate. When I teach physical health I start with the feet because they are the base of the body. The hips need to be level to allow the spine to rise correctly. Unfortunately for people who have damaged the gaps between their bones, like me, gravity pulls the bones together in those damaged places. I need to stretch those spaces again. I also need to be able to get away from those who are spiritually bringing me down because of their problems.

Maybe this poem and explanation will get through to my sister who also has her own problems and is trying to hide from them by sleeping and running around like a teenager.