American Sentry

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Memories serve a purpose, but they can also be hard teachers in the affairs of life.

Submitted: August 28, 2013

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Submitted: August 28, 2013

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I was once a proud sentry defending the ideals of my country in a faraway land.

It’s been years since I was last there, but I still remember everything as if it all happened yesterday.Memories serve a purpose, but they can also be hard teachers in the affairs of life.

I recall looking over the veranda of my outpost for the first time; I saw a vast desert extending in fantastic proportion as far as I could see.It was as foreign to me as I was to it.

Every time the sun would descend, my grip would tighten around my weapon as the enemy prepared for an attack using the night as cover.

My heart and my mind would race as I prepared myself for the onslaught of horrors that the enemy would unleash.  The flashes of gunfire and the screaming voices of the wounded and the fallen filled the void of the night. 

The torment of not knowing if you were going to live or die no longer unsettled me.For reasons that I will never know, I survived that hellish place. My body was spared, but my mind was a casualty of the brutality of war.There are wounds that the human eye cannot see.

Some gave their lives in an effort to make this world a better place.Theirs was a sacrifice gone mostly unnoticed by politicians and evil men who bask in luxury and corruption.Men whose hands are covered in blood and enjoy watching the world burn as long as they get theirs.

I wonder what I left behind and what part of me was forever lost in the desert of Iraq.

 


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