Is it the battlefield or is it in the kitchen
At the sink staring out of the window
Is it the spare room the no man’s land
Is it she crying silently into the pillow
With the noise of battle coming from
Her husband’s rantings in the living room
Is it the banging of the bedroom door
As he pushes forward to overcome his target
With a verbal attack against the “enemy”
Is it the mum with the empty heart
Longing for her soldier son
Is it the sister without a big
Brother to hold her hand
Is it the little boy covering his ears
Against the war cry of his daddy
Against the surrender of his mummy
There are many unheard of war zones
And countless families are still in there
Although they have never been to war
There has been a war raging for many years
A war of marriage a war of fears
I carry many unseen war wounds
Wounds that are never recognised
Because I have never been to war
And yet I am a war veteran
But now I am weary
I have surrendered
There are too many casualties
I have survived many battles
But PTSD will always win the war