I just wanna share this poem given to me by an old friend back in college...here it goes....
Where are we to go when this is done?
Will we slip into old, accustomed ways?
finding remembered notches, one by one?
Thrashing our way through quickening haze?
Who is it to know us when the end has come?
Old friends and families, but could we be
strange to the sight and stricken dumb
at visions of some pulsing memory?
Who will love us for what we used to be,
who now are what we are, bitter or cold?
Who is to nurse us with swift subtlety
back to the warm and feeling human fold?
Where are we to go when this is through?
We are the war-born. Where are we to do?
(by joel escovilla) thanks for the memory friend!I doubt if you still remember this:)
(this was handed to me by joel on August 14, 1998)