Poem: Spent Shell

At one point I was so proud to serve,

Wearing my battle dress,

Ready for the call to duty,

A call only so many can hear,

But what do we do when we can no longer answer the call.

What purpose do we have,

Our battle dress no longer needed,

Our efforts spent like gun powder.

Spent to the point that we can answer and recognize our own call.

All that remains is a shell,

Of what once was.

A shell uses for a purpose,

Now discarded,

And waiting to be melted down.

I am spent!

***

Eugene Maes is a Disabled Veteran. He served in the U.S.A.F. where he worked in Aerospace medicine. He tells us he always wanted to try writing of some sort. He adds that, “Right now I’m freezing cold in Colorado Springs hanging out with Jack Frost.” Stay tuned for more of his work on these pages.