I'll Cry Tomorrow

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: War and Military  |  House: Booksie Classic

I remember when I was a boy and then a young man, with promise, and with potential. I was idealistic. I was a poster boy for America – a Valley boy from the Rio Grande -- bright, strong, determined. Those were the days of my innocence.

I’LL CRY TOMORROW

By Al Garcia

I remember when I was a boy and then a young man, with promise, and with potential.  I was idealistic.  I was a poster boy for America – a Valley boy from the Rio Grande -- bright, strong, determined.  Those were the days of my innocence.  Those were the days before the dawning of the realities of war, and before the pangs of conscience and the reality of death destroyed the simplicity of my youth.

I remember the dreams I shared with friends, and the fears I kept hidden within myself.  It was a time of sacrifice and of the acceptance of loss.  It was the time I saw America weep in despair and disillusionment.  Those were the days of my youth – taken, squandered and abandoned.  Those were the days when young men didn’t cry, they just closed their eyes, their minds and hearts, and marched blindly into the arms of fate, and then died, frightened and alone, in a flurry of sound and dust and smoke.  It was a time of war.  And no time to cry.  No time to weep for friends or for ended dreams. 

Those were the days that defined my youth, and that now scar the twilight of my life.  Unceasing memories keep alive the faces and the places that never age or fade.  And my wounded mind forever feels the sorrow and the grief of having lost the better part of me, when friends laid down on crimson fields, never to see the dawning rays of light, or share or live their dreams.

And I told myself, I’ll cry tomorrow.  And when I came home from war, and when tomorrow finally came, I found I had no tears to shed or share.  I was a casualty of war.  I had lost that part of me that dared to feel.  I had left behind the boy I used to be, with friends that needed me, or more likely, friends I could not leave alone in such a lonely place. 

And I’ll cry tomorrow . . . when I see my friends and feel again their energy and their spirit, and when I know that we are once again, a band of brothers, bound by something greater than mere time or mortality.

And then I’ll cry and let my tears begin to flow, because I’ll know that tomorrow finally came. 


Submitted: May 23, 2021

© Copyright 2021 A.Garcia. All rights reserved.

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