From Afar, But Never Away
I can’t sit beside you in the dark,
Can’t pass a flask or light the spark.
But I hear the tremble in your voice—
The silence thick beneath your choice.
Miles stretch like old campaign roads,
But I carry part of all your loads.
You text at two—I always read,
A lifeline born of shared old need.
You don’t have to say what haunts your nights,
I’ve seen the same uneven fights.
The kind that follow you home in dreams,
Where nothing’s ever what it seems.
From a distance, I steady your hand,
No medals, just a promise that I’ll stand.
Across the states, through static lines,
I send my words like warning signs.
“You’re not alone,” isn’t just a phrase,
It’s something we prove through foggy days.
Through calls, through chats, through every cry,
We fight the urge to say goodbye.
Because you matter—still, today.
Even if the war won’t go away.
And if I can’t be in your space,
Know this: I’m with you, just in place.
So if your weight gets too much to bear,
Text me. Call me. I’ll be there.
From afar, but never gone—
Brother, sister, we march on.
© 2025 Shawn Oen. All rights reserved.
I wrote this poem after I got deeply involved in my employers EAP team for veterans and my goal was to help prevent veterans suicide related to PTSD