Shells underfoot at home... no longer war
Our loved one’s fragile sanity left torn
Years after; left to fend in no man's land
Alone at home at attention we stand
Only our eyes witness their night terrors
Guttural screaming, still fighting... shivers
Whimpering and twitching, we're now on guard
Poised to shield both them and ourselves from harm
For we are what is left of their squadron
Without lacquered boots, caps or uniforms
Without training on how to win this war
Whilst those who trained, look on... but still ignore
Oh how we've tried to dig out of Hell’s trench
We've dug so deep with love we’re now entrenched
Long given up on backup... no one comes
Yet still, we beg for help, clamour for crumbs
When will they see the Home Batallion?
Army marching from sunset through till dawn
Soldier, spouse and their next generations
When will they learn, trauma harms... just like guns
Trauma a wound that festers; never heals
Endless spinning misery-go-round wheel
One, their families hope one day to halt
If they themselves survive... trauma’s assault
Please keep your medals and your folded flags
We just want back the peace we all once had
Guidance to help our loved ones end their war
Support for families... please heed our call
© Debbie Razey 2020 - Violet Moon Poetry.
Art my adaption from Upsplash - Photofox
