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Uninvited Guests

She could hear
The doors open
To the car that
Never brings
Good news

Footprints sounded like drums
As clear skies found clouds
She prayed so hard
Hoping it was some mistake

As the bell rang
Her heart quit beating
As she welcomed
Her uninvited guests

The leaves were falling
As the world carried on
For her, this moment
Was discussed before deployment
Every army wife had this talk
Now it was a reality
Not some scenario

Dressed in their uniforms
Carrying out orders
That requires faith
They told her
About his bravery
How he honored his country
And that he is in god’s hands
Offering condolences
They said good day
and carried on

That day silence spoke
Agony lingered
Rage manipulated
Loneliness was a seductress
Hope had relocated

Money won’t mend a heart
Not even being commemorated
Yes, it’s part of being in the army
Tell that to a woman that replaced love
With a folded flag
Uncle Sam took her fiancé

Editing stage: 

Comments

No jingoism or sentimentality. You have spoken truth of feeling.

cheers,
Jess
A new workshop on the most important element of poetry-
'Rhythm and Meter in Poetry'
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for your help and critique

author comment

Sigh.

Beautiful... Remember to reread this and *be the flute*, Paul

~Acc

thank you for stopping by

author comment

I have no criticism.
Just admiration for an excellent poem.

Respectfully, Race

"Laws and Rules don't kill freedom: narrow-minded intolerance does" - Race-9togo

http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/Race_9togo

thannk you for the comment

author comment

In context, one of if not the best line I've read here....................stan

thanks for the words

author comment

commendable work I like how you keep your viewpoint without veering
off into poignant sentiment An all true poem of todays woes and those
whom are forever linked to the inextolerable toll that war enacts upon
its involved and committed

I would get rid of the ending in this that last line is way too cliche for me, though I am not patriotic I think the striking ending is the line about the flag.

Chez
"The perfect woman perpetrates literature as she does a small sin: as an experiment, in passing, to see if anybody notices it - and to makes sure that somebody does." - Nietzsche

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