For our Vets
In World War II, when my father was only 19 years old he served on the USS Jobb.
My mothers father commanded the first mine sweeper into Italian waters.
In the 1920's my grandfather Dr. John A. Farrell treated former veterans of World War I whose parting gift from the war was tuberculosis.
And way back in 1865, my then 18 year old Irish born great great grandfather endured General Lee's last advance. He would partake in an action to block Lee's escape at Five Forks.
And just because sometimes life is FUBAR, I wrote this poem for all those veterans who suffer with memories no man should ever have. I send this to all of you with all my love. Peace, Jan
A Bend in the Road
Ask where to
dear dust covered road?
Here the dead men fell today.
The yellow flowers of the field
spill their seeds to the wind.
Many loving hearts fell with them
under the drying sun.
Here they took their last cold breath
when the battle was over and won.
Are these trees strange to see
local dialect even stranger?
Will the mind store these sad memories
or tear into them like death to keep?
Save an empty space in a tangled world.
Prayers for a deep, deep sleep.
I imagine a fleecy blanket
sheltering them all the way back home.
Giving comfort instead of death
and peace to those who moan.
Can passion place itself away from this
on steadfast shoulders of hope
and rest in the light of gentleness
shine light on the war torn cove.
By Joanne Kathleen Farrell
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