Across the sea, a jungle green, A young man fought, a sight unseen. My father, there, in Vietnam’s hold, A story etched, a heart of gold.
The weight of war, a heavy pack, He carried burdens on his back. The sounds of fire, the cries of pain, Aching memories, etched like rain.
But courage bloomed where shadows fell, He faced his fears and fought them well. For comrades’ sake, for duty’s call, He stood his ground, he gave his all.
And when he came back home at last, The war’s grim toll, a shadowed past. Unspoken battles, burdens deep, Yet in his eyes, a love to keep.
He built a life, a world anew, The strength he bore, shone clear and true. My father, soldier, quiet, strong, In him, I see where I belong.
This ode to him, a whispered pride, For all he faced, for all he tried. A son’s respect, a heart’s embrace, For the hero’s journey, etched on his face.
I ask about you. Wonder how you are? I wonder where you are? And if you think of me? The truth hurts as I know, You never ask about me.
For they say, I am never in your thoughts. My name is never in your mouth. I want to rage, cry and scream. I want to shake you and show you,
What you lost. But chances are you won’t care. I was never important and a thought. All I could offer was a loyal friend But that was never enough for you.
The lines were drawn in quiet ink, A map of “yes” and “stay,” I feared the bridge would surely sink If I turned the other way. I held my breath to keep the peace, A ghost within the room, Fearing that my own release Would seal a friendship’s doom.
I thought the cost of being me Was more than they would pay, That if I spoke, they’d turn and flee And leave me in the gray. But then the weight began to gall, The “jokes” that left a sting, The way they made me feel so small While I gave everything.
So I stood up, a sudden flame, And watched the masks descend, I finally spoke my truth, my name, And waited for the end. They met my strength with cold disdain, With anger and with slight, They saw my joy as their own pain And walked into the night.
And in the silence left behind, The truth began to bloom: The friends I was so scared to find Were never in that room. For if a boundary breaks a bond, The bond was but a thread; Of people who are truly fond, There’s nothing left to dread.
If standing up meant losing them, I lost a heavy chain, A false and hollow stratagem That only offered pain. The ones who leave when you grow tall Were never yours to keep; It’s better that the shadows fall So you can finally leap.
I built a bridge of patient, weary years, A silent span of quiet, chosen words, The mortar set with dried and vanished tears, A testament to battles, not rewards. My hands I offered, strong and open wide, To hold the weight of your erratic sphere, To stabilize the chaos you supplied, Yet only met a storm, a boundless fear. My effort was but dust upon the breeze, Against the wind of your profound unease.
When your world tilts and loses all its grace, The guttural cry of “holy hell” defines The atmosphere of this abandoned place, No longer haven, but a field of mines. A sudden, unexpected fire starts, Consuming fragile things that stood its test, Leaving behind a jagged, broken heart. With cruelty, you push me to the crest, The edge of sanity, my failing might, Expecting me to hold while you ignite.
I tried, desperately, to be the ground, The immovable foundation in the shake. I absorbed the shocks where steady peace was found, Withstood the tremors for your troubled sake. But now the space between us is a void, A profound, echoing, desolate expanse, Where kindness’s tender seed has been destroyed, And understanding lost its saving chance. Now only the choked vine of unyielding rage, And your consuming need across this stage.
I’ve studied your map of pain for far too long, Memorized the texture of each emotional scar, Anticipating where the wound would throng, An unwilling cartographer of your war. But in that process, I forgot my name, Eclipsed by roles I was compelled to fill: Your punching bag, the target of your flame, Your safe harbor, your shore against the chill. But that era’s ended, clarity now bright, I won’t be your refuse, your emotional blight.
The door to this shared history is heavy now, Weighted by expectation and old despair, But it is closed, with a final, solemn vow. The work I poured is starkly laid out there— Not as a failure of a loving mind, But as an investment that was misguided, deep. I failed no duty, I was not unkind, I simply chose myself, the promises to keep To me. I recognized the point of no return, And in that closure, finally, I learn.
Photo by Burak Bahadır Büyükkılınç on Pexels.com
The Way Back to Us
The silent, turning tide of life Has stretched the maps we knew, The seasons shifted, ground gave way, The ties between us drew
Slowly apart, a creeping drift. Demands attention, energy, Like water through the sand, Leaching the solid ground of time.
There was a time, not long ago, We were each other’s stay, The anchors holding fast and sure In storm of early day. We held the secrets, deep and bright, The wisdom time had wrought, Our days marked by the shared, full laugh, The tapestry we caught—
Before the world turned bright to cold. I feel the sharp ache of the miss, The ease we used to share, Where we could simply be, no need For any word or care. That ease is gone; the quiet now, The profound, long silence cast, Has tragically become the sound Our relationship held fast. When air grows thin with struggle’s breath, I seek those mirrored faces still.
I’m reaching back through the gray blur The passing years have made, Refusing that demanding life Will keep the things that fade. The miles that stand between us now Are lines on charts that lie, Meaningless compared to the depth Our history lifts high. Our memories, no fading echoes— But brilliant, fixed stars in the night.
With will and concentrated hand, I clear the tangled brush, Desperate to find the path again Beyond the isolating hush. A clear, resounding call I send
Into the lonely void. My friends, I want you now to know: I’m here, steadfast, unalloyed. I want us back—the kind of bond That bends but will not break, No matter what the wind may bring. It is the time our circle wakes.
A flicker in the digital sea, A ripple in the ocean vast, Announced a message, unanticipated, free, A bridge to years and moments past. No expectation, no alarm, A serendipitous, sudden light, A warmth against the day’s long harm, Dispelling shadows of the night.
The sender’s name, a long-lost friend, Appeared upon the silent screen, A cherished sight without end, Recalling what had been. A powerful, unexpected force, Across the void of silent years, Washing away the quiet remorse, And vanquishing old, silent fears.
A wave of joy, a deep embrace, Surged through the heart, dissolving time, As memories rushed, swift in their chase, Like a rushing, vibrant tide sublime. Laughter shared, a youthful sound, Secrets told in hushed reply, A core of trust that could be found, A sturdy thread beneath the sky.
Across the miles that held them fast, The vital connection instantly made, The digital form, a vessel cast, Where friendship’s enduring flame was played. Passionately kindled, burning bright, Unafraid of intervening years, A testament to affection’s might, Dispelling all the rising tears.
The quick exchange of grateful hearts, A quiet acknowledgement of grace, The inner vision of eyes that starts, Smiling across time and space. This sudden reunion, taking flight, A potent reminder, clear and true, Some bonds are not defined by sight, But by a spirit time can’t undo.
The depth of my disappointment is immense, I truly thought you were a person of integrity, Whose every action would align, with no pretense, With the strong character you seemed to be. “I thought you were better” is too mild to say; I saw in you a loyalty I sought to find, A moral standard now just dust and clay, A shattered image of a perfect mind.
The thing you did, or failed to do, you see, Was not a simple letdown; “it crushed me” whole. It was a devastating blow to my reality, A chasm swallowing my trusting soul. I had invested trust and boundless hope, An extraordinary quantity of “faith in you,” To find it misplaced, I now must grope, A personal failure, though the fault is true.
Our bond, which I so dearly held and prized, Was based on a belief in shared pure light. “I thought we were actually friends,” I realized, Now every memory feels contaminated, blight. Each moment shared, each secret I confessed, Feels poisoned by the knowledge I now hold, That “that’s a lie, and it’s always been a lie,” unblessed. A friendship’s illusion, turning cold.
My estimation of you reached the stars, “Maybe I thought more highly of you than you think of yourself.” I held you past your self-imposed high bars, More than you were capable of from your shelf. I believed you held a goodness and a strength, A beautiful essence that does not exist. “Maybe I thought more of you than you truly are,” at length, The gap between the ideal and the actual persists.
My admiration wasn’t born from my own plight, For I appreciated what I thought you were. I never claimed perfection, or to be the light: “I don’t think I am special; I thought you were.” I know my faults; I am not so grand: “I don’t think I am great; I thought you were.” My self-regard is low, I understand: “I don’t think highly of myself, but I thought highly of you.”
The burden of this pain, in a dark way, Rests on my shoulders for this foolish crime. “I guess I was wrong to put that much faith in you,” I say. The name of “friend” was sacred, but I wasted time: “I guess I was wrong to call you a friend.” My error was this desperate, naive dream, That you would prove me right until the end: “I guess I was wrong; I wanted you to be better.”
And so I cycle through this self-inflicted doubt, Were my expectations too far out of reach? “I guess I was wrong, maybe it’s just me,” I shout. But the ultimate truth that the facts now preach: “I guess I was wrong; I put too much faith in you.” I took your potential for your very core: “I guess I was wrong, believing in you,” it’s true. I can’t believe in you anymore.
The desolate conclusion is the clear refrain: “I guess I was wrong.” A simple, crushing sound. For in your actions, truth gives way to pain: “I guess I meant nothing to you” that I have found. The end of my faith is the end of what we were.
The tapestry of life has threads of gloom, Where toxic darkness drains the spirit’s bloom. Some things in life are toxic, subtly sly, Environments that stifle, habits that deny Our health, or institutions built on lies— The silent poisons that before us rise.
As harmful are the ties that bring us pain, Some people in life who are toxic, they remain Emotional vampires, constant critics cold, Passive aggressors, stories to be told Of manipulation, thriving on the storm, Suffocating potential, leaving us worn.
Beyond the things and people we may face, Some activities are toxic in this space. The compulsions offering distraction’s grace, But long-term regret we cannot erase: The relentless pursuit, the endless scroll, The cycles that entrap and take their toll.
So why do we still use these things we know? Is it comfort, fear, or letting inertia grow? And why do we still talk to these people too? Is it guilt, obligation, hope that’s often through? Why on the altar of connection’s name, Do we sacrifice our peace to feed their flame?
If the outcome’s negative, why do we stay? Why do we still do these activities every day? The self-sabotage, the deeply set-in need, Why do we torment ourselves by doing the same things repeatedly indeed? A closed, agonizing loop of self-inflicted harm, Where inertia holds us in its harmful arm.
But the moment of reckoning demands its due, A crystallizing truth, unflinching, strong, and new: Enough! I am done! a line across the sand, The absolute refusal, a sovereign command. To the source of the poison, the message is clear, Take your toxicity and your self-righteous attitude and leave me here.
Leave me be, so I can move on and find my peace, Grant me the space for wounds to heal and cease. Leave me be and stop pretending you ever cared, The charade of concern, its hollow core laid bare. Leave me be and let me live my life as it should be, Unburdened by your shadow, finally free.
My future is my own, not for your design, Leave me be and stop pretending that you ever cared is the final sign. Severing the chains of a love that was a lie, Walking into freedom beneath a clear, blue sky.
A Flower A flower blooms in the soft morning light, A silent promise of enduring might. Spreading its delicate petals, a vibrant hue, Out to the warmth, the life-giving sun, shining anew.
The celestial rhythm, the sun's grand ballet, It rises with hope, and then fades away. Each day a fresh chapter, a pristine, clean slate, A boundless opportunity, sealed by no fate.
Each new dawn brings a chance for profound, lasting change, To break free from confines, to truly rearrange. Each passing hour holds a chance for true greatness to bloom, To conquer the darkness and dispel all the gloom. Each single day is a new chance to reach for the dream, To fuel the deep passion, the bright, inner gleam.
The flower drinks deep of the sun's golden shower, Sustained by the light in this fleeting, sweet hour. It unfurls its beauty, a joy to behold and to see, Sharing its splendor with all, wild and free.
Be like the flower, resilient and bold, Let your spirit unfold, a magnificent story told. Spread your unique petals, your gifts and your grace, For the world to witness, in this time and this place.
