There was a young man who returned from war, Called home to his mother, his voice raw and sore. "I'm back in the States, Mom, I'm finally here." Her heart leapt with joy, her eyes filled with cheer.
"I'm preparing a feast, all your favorites, dear." He said, "Mom, I'd like to bring a friend near." "Of course, son," she said, "That's wonderful news." But he had more to share, his tone somber, subdued.
"My friend lost his eye in the midst of the fight." "That's no problem, son," she answered, polite. "There's another thing, Mom, he lost his right leg." "That's a bit harder, but we'll make it," she said.
"One more thing, Mom, his right arm's gone too." She paused, then replied, "We'll manage for you." "But, Mom," he continued, "I promised he'd stay." Her voice grew uncertain, "Son, not in that way."
"We can't handle that, it's too much to bear, The costs and the strain, it wouldn't be fair." He replied softly, "I'll tell him, it's fine." The next day, the news left her heart in a bind.
Her son took his life, the burden too great, The friend he spoke of was his own broken state. He sought understanding, a place to belong, But faced with rejection, he couldn't stay strong.
Now she lives with the guilt, the echoing pain, Wishing she'd seen past his words to his strain. A lesson in love, in acceptance so true, For every soldier, and the battles they go through.
