“Gifts of War”

They came here clean,
our springful youth,
their vigor a joyous stride,
their hunger a welcome shout.

The work they broached
as determined troops
was sold as a noble cause,
was labeled a valiant crusade.

But who told them
the routine truth
of dust that infiltrates lungs
with atoms that burn away cells,
of bodies that will never mend,
of nightmares that won’t go away.

They came here clean,
but what goes home?