Is there a time when friendship does not count,
Where bonds forged in war are callously
forgotten
Is now the time for their suffering to willfully
discount
As a passing blight, a chore ill-gotten?

Is desperation always someone else’s burden,
To be observed but ultimately ignored,
Their fate unclear, easier to draw that curtain
To an inconvenient truth only in words
deplored.

To politician’s promises are tenuous,
They matter only when there’s gain,
Integrity is often deemed too arduous,
Little caring for other’s strife and pain.

But to those of us who conflict shared,
Who know by name those left behind,
Fully aware of all they dared,
Our life with theirs lies intertwined.

What can we say, what can we do
This cruel injustice to make right,
But raise our voice, shout what is true,
Honor our debt, correct this blight.