Invisible Service

They do not wear the uniform
or get the accolades.
Yet Army wives deserve
our nation’s thanks and praise.

They did not fight on distant shores
or watch their friends fall down;
but were present for that silence
before the bugler’s Taps would sound.

They did not know what would befall
their men who closed the door.
Some came home, yes some came home—
Some came home no more.

Pride swells in our breast
seeing the stripes and stars;
the sacrifice of service
is borne in battle scars.

Why is it that we overlook
the others left behind?
Families  on the Homefront
we’d do well to keep in mind.

They do not ask for much at all
except safe homes to live in,
careers for earning income,
and resources for their children.

Freedom is not free
has for some lost meaning.
The wife understands the cost
too well—when her husband’s leaving.

At night the lonely mother
holds her children gently,
Daddy is returning home
soon she says intently.

When the tot is fast asleep
she sits in rocking chair,
sometimes weeping bitterly
for her love that is not there.

Next day the children  ask again
“Mama, how many more days?”
She marks the kitchen calendar
and hopes for no more delays.

Never knowing where they’ll go
stateside or overseas;
The Army gives one certainty:
there are no guarantees.

Future plans together made
which they think is set in stone
can change in just an instant
when a call comes to his phone.

Gear shoved in duffle bags
with travel pass in hand;
he’s always at the ready
to fight in foreign lands.

It is then the Army wife begins
truly her sacred duty:
for she must bear the burden well
with courage, grace, and beauty.

As a spouse she must contend
with deadly possibilities.
It would be too easy to pretend
she has no vulnerabilities.

What if the Army gives to me
a man I do not know?
He’s not the man I married.
Did love fade long ago?

Could he be battling PTSD,
depression and anxiety?
Will he return an amputee
or struggle with sobriety?

What if I see the light
fade slowly from his eyes?
I hope that he would tell me
if he had thoughts of suicide.
 
Worse yet, the devastating guilt
should a soldier not return.
How to tell his children,
what they should never have to learn.

He chose to volunteer
for he felt it right to do.
Serving others was his calling,
and it was her calling too.

All those empty holidays
meant joy and laughter missed;  
arguments and grieving tears
and love sealed with a kiss.

Time was stolen from them
for the sake of you and me;
no time can be returned,
again freedom isn’t free —

The liberties you all enjoy
are not from vets alone
but those spouses, girls, and boys,
who just want their loved ones home.