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