This morning I read about a veteran

Who said I returned home, and no one noticed,

And he threw himself off the side of a mountain, and

I know the statistics.

I know twenty two veterans in America kill themselves

Every single day because they come home from war

But cannot live anymore,

And when my husband finds me in the hallway, and

Tells me he wants to raise honeybees in our backyard,

I laugh,

Because I remember how hard the war was for us,

Or after,

When he came home, and had to reattach himself,

To this life he had left behind,

Or how there were days when all I wanted was for him

To care more, about our house, our yard, or me,

Instead of talking about peace building

And going back to Afghanistan,

And this hallway we are standing in stretches

Across the house like a vein,

And the bedrooms and the bathroom and the kitchen

Are like cells in a honeycomb,

Because this is the colony we have built together

And I lead my husband to the nearest window,

So we can look out,

At the backyard and I can say, show me where,

Because I know my life is sweet.

I know that no matter how hard the war was,

Or coming home, it was never that hard, and

How we were lucky

Because war can kill you,

It can kill a soldier on the inside and send him

Home a shell, half dead already and that is why

I will lie in bed tonight

And I will think of all the soldiers who die

Because of war, fighting in combat, and

Fighting on the battlefield at home, and

I will try to remember them, even though

I know that I don’t know at all, and how

I am already forgetting.

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2 Responses to Bee

  1. We do care. We do understand or want to. You see, both of my kids are in the military, sailor and airmen…..they too know and have felt the pressures of war and returning home…..Blessings forever.

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