The wounded vet marched in the town's
Memorial Day Parade
With feelings of pride along with the sense
Of having been betrayed.

He'd fought in nightmarish skirmishes
In a hellish no man's land,
Pledging allegiance to a country whose war
He didn't understand.

Though proud he was to have served his country,
He couldn't always claim
To be proud of his country at times,
Which was a rotten shame.

When signing up he knew he might
Have to pay a price--
But not the feeling of abandonment
For his sacrifice.

In some ways he felt lucky, for he'd
Returned with his duffel bag--
Unlike some of his friends who had
Come home wrapped in a flag.

The crowds cheered, the bands played,
The ceremony was formal.
Afterwards, the crowds would go home;
Their lives would go back to normal.

Normal for him was a daily struggle,
Therapy, medication,
Recurring dreams, unemployment,
Continuous frustration.

"No more empty promises;
No more tales or lies,"
He muttered softly as "Taps" was played
And tears streamed from his eyes.

- by Bob B