The Dusk of Day's Remains, sonnet Options

[heartsong7]

The Dusk of Day’s Remains

His coming home alive was only half
the battle. Acting like he cared at all
for anyone or thing, to simply laugh,
was hell. Awakened, crouching in the hall,
not knowing where he was or why he should
survive, he raised the gun, and felt the scar
where once had been a cheek; then slowly stood.

By morning he'd retrieved his old guitar,
a scratched-up, string-less wreck he vowed to save.
I watched him recreate an instrument.
As countless hours of renovations gave
him purpose, he was peaceful and content.
He strummed his own renditions. Those refrains
still echo in the dusk of day's remains.

[Larry]

Hello Sue,

Your sonnet sings as only a sonnet can. Rhyme and meter are spot on!

As for your subject matter, though attesting to a fictional PTSD sufferer, you've done yourself proud. For someone who, I believe, never experienced the horrors of war, your description pierces my soul. I spent two tours in 'Nam with the 3rd Marines. Lots of my friends and acquaintances never made it back alive and some that did are still lost in that abattoir. Even with the best of help, I doubt they will ever return. Your character is very lucky.

Perhaps I am reading too much into your poem but it seems that while re-building that "wreck", he was really re-building himself as well.

Thank you so much for sharing this with us.

Larry