 "Still falls the rain--dark as the world of man, black as our loss--blind as the nineteen hundred and forty nails upon the cross." --Edith Sitwell
Once you know a thing, it is impossible to unknow it. Stepping into a combat zone is something many of us will hopefully never have to do, but for the few who have done so, their world never goes back together in quite the same way. How does one process and make sense of an innocuous life after seeing things, doing things that most will only ever see in nightmares, or on some obscure video game, or nightly news story happening "out there"? There is no going back to the place of unknowing, there is only finding ways to keep the horrors at bay, the demons in check, so that they don't eat holes like Swiss cheese into your soul. But the stains...the stains remain. Most of the men and women I've met who've been in live combat situations don't like to talk about it, as if speaking of it will release some demonic fog from their lips and surround them, forcing the poison of the memories to come alive and devour them. A Marine friend of mine confessed to me, "If I talk about it, I get trapped in the memory and it becomes this living thing I don't know how to fight. I'm afraid I won't be able to keep a grip on my own sanity." An Army friend of mine, who lost his legs when he stepped on an IED, told me that he goes into the virtual world of Second Life with his wife because in there he can dance with her and feel whole again. It is our eternal shame to not care for these wounded warriors who have given so much for us and we should hold accountable those who mismanage their care (i.e. the recent scandal about the Veteran's Hospitals around the country) and then hide behind excuses! All who have worn a military uniform to protect ideals that form the foundations of our Nation have sacrificed pieces of themselves to do so, and some paid the ultimate price. I am grateful for the blanket of freedom I sleep under every night that is stained with the blood of those who've protected that freedom. I thank you for your service and remember you in my prayers every night. *Image from beapamplona.girlshopes.com.
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About The Author
I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter. Archives
December 2017
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