The Soldier

A Poem by Rachel I.

I take these healing hands of mine
And place them on my weeping eyes
For what I have seen, what I now know
Has made a mark on my very soul
'Cause this is a burden one person can't take
Yet it was put on me for another's sake

Each tear like a bullet leaving the chest
Each exhale letting go of things not put to rest
My hands taking on what my mind shouldn't keep
No one really knows how a soldier truly weeps

I breathe into the emptiness that I've known and still can feel
My hands carry the heaviness of a gun about to kill
The scars on them tell of the truth rarely told
Of the battle still within me; Of a young man grown old

Even medals of honor weigh heavy on the chest
And now I wander around, neither here nor there
Looking for a way to comprehend, looking for a place to rest