On Memorial Day: To the ones that didn’t make it home and the ones who did.

On Memorial Day: To the ones that didn’t make it home and the ones who did.

My half-sister’s father was shot down over Korea. MIA to this day.  My cousin from my adopted family made it home from Korea, but not totally unscathed.  A friend went to Nam and I don’t know if he ever returned. A friend’s son injured in Afghanistan.  I hate war. I grieve for the losses of brave hearts and the families they leave behind.

An excerpt from a poem of mine.

My sister’s father flew a plane.

A pilot, daring,

circled bravely

o’er Korean fields.

Shot down one day when she was three.

They never found that MIA.

She has a photo on her shelf.

All that’s left of him.

I never knew my father.

He died in the war before,

the one where other fathers flew.

Good old W W 2.

But we are all alike, alone.

Whether the tomb is lost or known.

So many are left fatherless

of what war brings everyone.