Veterans
are fugitives from hell, Escapees from death pursued by pain. The truth they left behind makes truth
insane; Each nightmare is a truth they know too
well. Reason is unreasonable when words Are whips that drive believers to the
kill, Necessary to sustain a will Stirred by the sweet morning songs of
birds. Decencies are frills to put aside As hearts are hardened for the jolting
ride, Yet on return are clamped and hardened
still.
Copyright by Nicholas Gordon. Free for personal or non-commercial use.
