Welcome home

A sonnet about returning from the war as a dying man.

The soft crunch of grass beneath heavy boots
The harsh whisper of the wind on slated roofs
Fur clad hats on ladies' heads
Pulling me in and away with each dying breath
The undefeated chanting that battles the click of the guns
Not within earshot echoing through my brain
Like a beckoning phantom, calling out my name
Faces blurring in and out of strained eyes' focus
Sickening smoke, rejuvenating my lungs
The fight draws me in as I'm drawn away
Hell's doorstep warmer still than death's
A parade of shame welcomes me home
Disappointed faces
Like I shouldn't have made it back

Author's Note

Open to any reviews!

Reviews

[magenta24uk]

Hi Thanks for entering my Anthology competition. The work needs to be submitted to the blog to have a chance to be published. A group of writers are getting together to write an anthology for a children's cancer charity. To enter go here. https://chrissyswritingchallenge.wordpress.com/ check out the challenges and submit a piece in the comments on the blog. Good luck.

[Ghost writer]

I like the feel, it's sad like PTSD that never really goes away

[elle_c]

I could see this taking place during WWII in Russia, when the Red Army was fighting the Germans. At the same time the line "Disappointed faces Like I shouldn't have made it back," reminds me of the Vietnam vets who were shamed for their service.

[ArtEagle]

Thank you for the feedback! :)