THE FALLING SOLDIERS

I remember those days upon the battlefield in far away lands with the images my eyes saw, that became visions embedded within the depth of my mind as soldiers bodies and blood, lay motionless upon the battlefield grounds like a pool of blood with countless DNA. Yet as the mere images still touch and pull at the very core of my heart running through my soul, for even now as I compose these unspoken words to describe the death. I have seen even being apart of the process of this war taking lives as a soldier in war, for I remember the sounds of feet running around sometimes even in the darkness of the dead of night. Yet the deepness of the sounds of the waves beating at my brain, with its impact that came with an reaction that none the less affected, my mind and heart and soul as it bought about a change within me leaving fragments of stages of PTSD. I still remember all the falling soldiers who fought by my side and died sometimes in my arms, soldiers that have come and gone even visited me in the night dreams of my mind and heart and soul. But yet why is it that we are only truly remember when Memorial Day appears upon the horizon, as some folks seem to forget about the men's and women's the falling soldiers, who fought and died and gave their own skin and flesh and blood for liberty and freedom for all only to be forgotten as the falling soldiers.