Reflections Poem: The Price of Freedom

Enjoy our “Reflections” post — one of many vignettes and stories featuring memories of days gone by. This installment is from Teresa Winter of Pittsboro, Mississippi, as seen in “The Oxford So & So.”
If you would like to contribute your own Reflections story, send it, along with photos, to hottytoddynews@gmail.com.

I watch the one that I hold dear
struggle within, showing no fear.
Through cloudy days and restless nights,
he tries with courage to keep up the fight.

The demons, the ghosts that dwell within
continue to surface and keep haunting him.
Despite his best efforts, they will not subside.
He lives with it daily, with me by his side.

No matter what I do or what I say,
nothing eases the pain off the day.
I feel so helpless, as if he’s all alone.
I can’t get through that wall of stone.

Try as I may, try as I might
I will never understand the shrieks in the night.
The demons that haunt him most every day
result from that war of yesterday.

The one that was fought for no good reason;
that should have been swift but lasted a season.
When soldiers were mocked and were spit upon too
when returning home loyal and true.

I was not there and I did not see
the price he paid for my liberty.
Not only him, but thousands of men
did give up their lives for family and friends.

Some gave their lives, some gave their limbs.
Some gave something from deep within.
Lives were changed on those great battlefields
because to our nation they did so willingly yield.

Brothers they are now, the ones that survived.
They rarely can speak of those who died.
The bond they have from their service together
is worth more to them than the fairest of weather.

To share that bond, I can never do.
The bond they have is tried and true.
I can only pray he knows that I care,
and am ready and able if he chooses to share.

“PTSD” – They gave it a name.
So many lives changed; what a terrible shame.
May God, on earth, give peace to their souls
and in Heaven above, when He calls roll.

Dedicated to my loving husband, James Michael Winter (a.k.a. “Postman” to those he holds dear).

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