For a Yellow Ribbon
In yesteryears we watched our brothers die in the mud and jungle,
these days we see them fall in mountains and sand.
In the past we came home and people spit on us,
now we come home missing limbs and/or with mental issues.
We come home from our time at basic completely changed,
raised in a "good" home we say, "Please pass the fucking potatoes."
Those of us that make it home always seem disconnected,
like something has been cut out if our hearts.
You hear the stories of horrors we have seen or done ourselves,
and you wonder why we keep going back?
Because somewhere in the land of the Big PX is a little girl whom we will never meet,
safe asleep in her bed, with a yellow ribbon in her yard for one of our brothers.
We will do our very best to see him home, though we may never meet him,
with his shield....... or on it........ AMEN