Too Soon The Tears

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Soldiers never cry. They either do or die. It’s not for them to think or question, but just simply to survive.

TOO SOON THE TEARS

By Al Garcia

Soldiers never cry.  They either do or die.  It’s not for them to think or question, but just simply to survive.  For those that fall upon the battlefield, they are left to die alone.  For the battles never stop and the savagery persists, even while the cries of pain and acceptance slowly fade and cease to be.  And soldiers walk on by without a second glance.  Too busy surviving and too weak to want to see the face that may stare back at them without a blink and without a glimmer or a gleam. 

 

How old must a young man be to escape the bonds of life that promised dreams that were never meant to be?  How can the innocence of youth be sacrificed upon cold and desolate fields that harbor the manufactured malice that lies hidden in the human heart?  The age of innocence knows no time or phase or stage of our existence.  And it is the young that die too soon upon the battlefields because they’ve had no time to learn to hate.

What would become of war if we had to take the time to understand the reason why and had to learn to abhor and loathe and hate before we reached the killing fields?  Would it excuse the senselessness and absurdity of hunting human prey or to become the hunted in a game of life and death? 

The images and the sounds of war that scar the minds and souls of those that serve are wounds that never heal.  They linger beneath the memories of the faces and the voices that haunt the dreams that never seem to stop -- dreams of faces with smiles and eyes that sparkled and glowed when they spoke of tomorrows that never came.

Too soon the tears for those too young and too innocent to die.  Too soon the tears for friends that should have walked away with me to live, explore and realize the dreams that dwelled inside their souls.  We shared a moment in time that forever resides inside of me.  A moment that caught me unprepared and ill-equipped at the ripe old age of twenty to accept the suddenness and finality of death.  We were all supposed to be invincible, indestructible, invulnerable.  We were supposed to live forever.

And now I think about those days and those that were left behind, and too soon the tears return.  I’m not a soldier anymore, so I’m allowed to cry and feel the sorrow of shattered dreams and sense the loneliness of dying all alone, without a friend to shield them as they fade away.

Too soon the tears . . .  too long the days . . .  too lonely the nights. 


Submitted: May 22, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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