What must it be like for returning soldiers from war zones
A poem by Rex Tyler (rex@cooksdelight.co.uk)
Source: www.cooksdelight.co.uk

The galling business and the realization
Of getting back from a war zone fought abroad
In some hell hole in some small town out yonder
To find one's health is ailing that reward
For being caught up in what was the4 mayhem
Emotionally now shot away and sad
Sleep interrupted by nightmarish flasbacks
For let it be clear somethings there were bad
What really grips my soul right at this moment
Was the use made of Du Weaponry, for we
Were slam bang in the middle of some fire fights
And clearly it had an effect on me
Radiation, particulates its was a sad affair
Clawing at my sense of purpose
As every one does care
Gulf War Syndrome call it what you will
it matters not
And for anyone to say there is no problem
thats a lot
Of soldiers who know otherwise,who saw, who heard, who felt
The weight of war upon them as i the dark they knelt
To share what affirmations what prayers they felt inside
For returning relatively unscathed it must not be denied
We are hurting,we are human afterall we suffer pain
We are awash at night with tears
was it all invain?
There were no weapons of mass destruction
the war was infact wrong
Depleted Uranium piercing shells
just did not belong
in that closed scenario and ssome nights when I'm alone
I accept I was a guinea pig and I do hear myself groan
The parameters of conflict were widened appreciably
And I must ponder on this thought into infinity
Its a dialogue that I have with myself
most everyday
And I'm adament that sensation will never go away.