Old soldiers often gather alone; surrounded and crowded by ghosts you can’t see.

Some ghosts comfort as a bit of home; others do not, more likely to flee.

Alone with the ghosts she heads to work; not meeting others’ eyes.

A small twitch, not quite a jerk, follows the shades like flies.

Another old trooper keeps a clean mind; he works hard to fit in.

 Such shame would be, were his colleagues to see, the filthy horrors within.

A Marine in gray, still high and tight; rubs rheumy knuckles without a show.

Hiding the pain, so hard to sustain, keeping it in so no one will know.

A sailor-pilot wheelies by with two wheels high, and two big wheels on the ground.

He cackles as he flies, dreaming of skies, his Tomcat in a wheelchair he found.

An old thin Ranger with shifting eyes, paces a count from room to chow.

He’ll lead the way, every day; and get them all back somehow.

Shuffling outside with just a little pride, an old private, a bag at his side

No hero was he, just permanent PFC, doing daily police call with pride.

Behind a desk, a missile badge on his chest, an old zoomie sits with gray eyes.

He remembers the days in silos and bays, and bright red buttons …teary eyes.

In the back of the room, surrounded by gloom, she sits with fingers bouncing.

Trying to fill the 581s so the guys at the front can keep shooting.

On another’s head, a beret of red, hides a deep redder scar.

He’d landed you see, in a big ugly tree, then he fell so far.

He remembers the joke, jumping into smoke, exiting on the first pass.

We’re over the trees! Sees between his knees…the treetop aiming for his ass.

The old supply sarge, his hands so large, keeps empty boxes on his shelf.

You ask him for one…he sez “No way son…’cause then I’d have one less for myself.”

The blind girl sits, face to the sun, her skin melted and lined.

The IED she tried to defuse, somehow refused, and scarred her body and mind.


And the hidden one, her face undone, cries herself so deep. Her soldier boy, her only joy, lies permanently asleep.

Don’t pity us, we are what we were, there’s no need to weep.
That oath we swore, so many years before, was a promise we intend to keep.