I have a number of uncles,
though their blood does not flow through my veins.
They are my fathers brothers,
for these are men who have seen the jungle,
as he once did.
Brothers forged,
through the trials of war.
Feelings of guilt and regret.
One by one I have watched,
as these strong men,
these warriors,
have entered the grave.
Taking a piece of my father,
along for the ride.
The world is a darker place,
at their loss.
But all have earned their rest,
some peace.
I've seen much of despondence,
in this life.
But I lack the words to describe the sorrow felt,
when a warrior cries.