[A note from the author: Here is a poem I wrote last year. It did not come to mind until I was in a heated discussion with some folks in Santa Monica about the military.
I wrote the poem for a friend whose son served in Iraq. He died of a combination of wounds, PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, and neglect by the U.S. Army medical personnel.
My son, David, didn't serve in the military. But his Scottish heritage prompted me to write about our two sons.
Last week, there was an article on the front page of the Los Angeles Times about Peter and how his sister, Jennifer, and mother, Barbara, did what they could to help him.
I wish we could do more for those who serve the country, including young men like our grandson, Mike, who is scheduled to be deployed to Afghanistan next spring.]
Scottish Sons
The skirl of the bagpipes in the air
Reminds me of Scots of whom we care
Of David Cameron and Peter Sinclair
Mothers’ sons no longer there
They live on in our memories still
Even though we wish that we could will
them back to life to stay with us
So we could keep up our mother’s fuss
and bother that they’d just brush off
Saying it was “only a little cough”
We’ll miss them in all ways every day
As we hear the music and as we pray
That their souls are at peace and finally at rest
After so many cares carried on their breasts.
We think of them, we miss them, we love them still
And they know and God knows that we always will.
For Barbara Peterson Sinclair
by Janet Cameron Hoult
July 2008
Dr. Hoult may be contacted at HOULTight@aol.com
