The Price of Freedom

Hey all,

I took another stab at writing a poem outside of my normal comfort zone. I have been gestating on this one a few days and I am not sure how I feel about it. I started sounding the poem out while leafing through the paper working the graveyard shift early in the morning. It was boring and I had little to do by about 4 am. Anyway, I wanted to touch on the nature of war and people's reaction to it. It's a very polarizing topic and I wanted to touch on both sides of it, without favoring one over the other so the reader can decide how they feel about it. The poem is not meant to express any particular war or fight, hopefully you, the reader, can make your own interpretations. I'd be interested to hear what you all thought. Is it too heavy handed or obvious? Did I walk that line of pro or con? Like I said, I don't know if I did. Anyway here you go.



The Price of Freedom


Troubled times now lie ahead.

Thousands of soldiers lay in bed.

Promises made of help to come.

The remainder left, now cold and numb.

That vow once made for troops to send,

Broken again without chance remend.


Some will come home in black bag or wheeled chair.

Some will have injuries that medicine can't care.

Their wounds run deep, yet hard to find.

Existing so in heart, soul, and mind.

Sacrifices offered both big and small,

The belief that they suffered for the benefit of all.


Pray to loved ones that they left behind.

These same families offer returns in kind.

But not all feel in this way,

A country of change cannot all stay.

So when they comes home, it's like they've not left.

The disenfranchised and angry, a nation split in cleft.


So many men have been here before.

Still may more will marshall to the roar of war.

Some soldiers are born, and some are made.

The price of freedom though, is a cost that must be paid.

And even those against the fight,

Should champion those who fought for that right.

End of Line.
Gerrad!