ptsd--- repost--- 'Little John The Soldier'

paraphrased from an earlier column for 11/11/2012

========================================

ptsd of 'LITTLE JOHN THE SOLDIER'

A Little John graying soldier
From memory's silent silhouettes…

A boy forced “to be” a man
with a geography of scars;;;
His history of hurt,
His limbs stuffed now
with artificial things…

In what part of his eyes?
In what part of his heart?
In what part of his soul?
Does acceptance,
Redemption, and
Salvation for Little John,
the soldier, wait?

Inside his cage,
The cage of his heart,
Something throbs,
With both fists, and
Knows; only what
Little John the soldier knows…

Inside that body,
Too old now to react,
Too small to contain,
The hundred balloons
Of unrequited happiness…

And with a thousand yard stare,
He hears only
The single guitar of grief;
And the bugle of Taps…

Little John is a boy,
Like any other boy,
Sent off to war…

He grows smaller and smaller
To the eye of society,
And dissolves
Into the twilight
Of the setting sun,
Fluttering in the air
Like a solitary white feather
Disappearing silently
like a memory of kites…

=”Salve”...adore---IAM...)==============

Inspired by a short story by
Sandra Cisneros “Salvador Late or Early.”
Paraphrased and transformed by a veteran...

© 2012 3D Divine Deadbeat Dad ( - 1/29/16


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