I feel like I die a little,
frail sanity becoming slightly more
brittle and fragile when I
remember, and I remember
so often, not just once a year.
Faces of the dead that
I don't even know are tattooed
on the inside of my eyelids.

when I hear that there's national remembrance
I wonder how it'd be possible without
having something to remember.
With a world within a world
neither meeting the other, always a buffer between
because a vet won't bother anyone with anything
unless you've something to remember.

The dead do not rest in peace
while the living still suffer what they fought.
Nor do the living find peace in the rest
of the world's judgement and memory
when they've no place to judge
and no experience to recount.

05/28/2012

Author's Note: Hail the victorious dead.

Posted on 05/28/2012
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