ghostlyght

An honest son Sat at the table Past noonday 2 high, he sighed And then fingered his gun. It wasn't square folk Across the way But still this honest son Hoped there was another way. Back home though There were chillian's squalling. His gun started calling. An honest son they made.

There are many things I can speak of In my life with pride but few carry as much weight than when I speak of my Dad. He was young, and pretty stupid, and for a lack of reasons given aloud he joined the Army. He was twenty. It wasn't a family thing, Youngest of eight and he's got the only uniform. A teen wife he had just wed four days before who was to become my Mom. I am a Soldier's Daughter. Oldest of Three. There's an unspoken pride And when I see a folded flag I cry. I still have my Dad, I am luckier than some. I couldn't join up, but I got as close I could. I am a soldier's daughter. I am committed to ending war.

...normally would lift my soul. Not today, not yesterday. I hold out hope for tomorrow, but I'm pretty sure it will be just like 98% of my days the last 3 years.  So, I'll keep the bar low. Must. Stop. Typing.  A full blown rant is about to burst forth.