Warrior of Freedom
I cannot avert my vision
I keep stealing glance across the room
This man, struggling and broken
His pain telegraphed everywhere
A dimness of suffering
From which there seems no escape
Without hesitation or frustration
He pulls at his left arm with his right
For now that limb hangs dormant
Not gone, but on a hiatus of healing
Up comes his knee to hold it close
As he fishes in his pocket for a safety pin
Quickly he clips his cuff to his shirt
And steals a glance around the room
Watching for what, I certainly do not know
Out of respect I look away
So as not to alarm or interrupt
He continues to work in silence
His chair a lifeboat for a time
His crutch starts to slide
But he’s too quick to let it fall
Nervousness has him jittery
Fitting the brace on his good arm
He leans forward with all his might
Pushing with his good leg
I can feel the sinews straining
Every ounce of energy spent
Seconds seem like hours and he rises
I can no longer look away
As he totters, but then stands tall
Sweat beads dance across his forehead
He shakes and finally calms
Gathering purchase from somewhere
He moves, it’s not graceful
One step, then another, and another
Methodically across the room
Never stopping, never quitting
His vantage point in his sights
It’s a wall near the door
One step, then fiercely another
Never in all of my life
Have I been in the presence of courage
My emotions on high alert
His uniform might be slightly wrinkled
But his collar is creased
His single boot shined
He carries more than we know
The pain a symbol of a nation
One step, then another, no stopping
He looks to the clock on the wall
As he’s been doing so in stride
Timing his progress
Measuring himself until finally
Finally…
He stops at the outcrop of the wall
Strangely not to rest
But to stand his ground
My curiosity now a fevered pitch
Awaiting his next move
He works his crutch closer
As if to steady himself
Feet as close together as can be
Boot touching bandages
Shoulders back, head held high
He looks towards the hall
Raises his good arm in a crisp salute
Holds, then recovers
Again he works the crutch
Spreading his legs
He resumes his slow march
As he turns I see his face
The slight smile perplexes me
And he’s gone
Pausing for a bit, maybe not enough
I quietly slip over to the very same wall
As I peer into the hall
There it stands in all of its majestic beauty
Blood Red, Purest White, and Royal Blue
The only banner he knows of
I look but he’s gone
I can hear to slow gait in the distance
This man, this warrior
He is the brave we so proudly speak of
His sacrifice is for the nation
He proudly carries our pain
I finally understand
The value of being free.
The next time you see a wounded Veteran, think about the sacrifice they made to give the rest of us the right to be free. Some live with constant pain, both physically and mentally from their tours of duty. Never forget.
- When We Lost Control - October 13, 2025
- The Crumbling Space Around Me - October 10, 2025
- Sorrow - October 9, 2025
A very emotions and striking work Ralph, of those courageous souls who have given so much in defense of freedom. Acutely emotive and heart wrenching write, well structured and expressed. A great work my friend.
I am surrounded by wounded warriors, on a part time basis I work with the Dept of National Defense and I have witnessed all those you write about. Then to listen to governments spew their vomit out about cutting back or not allowing disability benefits to our warriors who went to serve, so we the PEOPLE can retain our freedoms. It’s very sad my friend to see those brave men and woman become outcasts when they arrive back, many injured to a country who is so demeaning to them. Your words here were felt and they are very much needed.