Medal Melting

My sword has tasted blood
for causes of variable worth.
My blood has tasted battle.

My flesh has tasted metal
for men of dubious credentials.
My mettle has been tested.

I am only the latest in a long line of recruits
in ragged step with our forebears,
and my blood seethes with their fury.

Their battles rage within me.
The knowledge of their wars
shames me.

My blood mocks me for a mercenary,
for who else have I served
if not the thieves of my freedom?

My marrow is sick of my service.
I bear my aging wounds resignedly,
but I will wear their coin no more.

To write a memoir?

Photo by David Clode

Has anyone here written a memoir? Writing one now, perhaps?

Two or three times this year I’ve found myself entertaining the notion. Just to cover my childhood and teens, really, up to when I joined the navy.

They were grim years. Dark. I suffered abuse.

What I’m wondering is, why would I want to write a memoir?

I don’t need to fix anything. I’ve done that, actually. I’m 61 and I’m okay. Long ago, I forgave the people who hurt me. I don’t need to come to terms with anything, or heal anything. It’s healed. So that’s not a reason to write it all out.

Nor do I need to see those years from the perspective of my abusers. Which might be a factor for some people who write a memoir, but it isn’t for me. I’m satisfied that I’ve covered that too.

I don’t believe it would make me any money. Not that money is a driver in my life. There are eleven or twelve of my novels out there in the world and, although my loyal readers enjoy them, experience tells me not to expect anything I write to buy me a yacht. So it isn’t money.

I’m not of the opinion that a memoir of mine would add to the sum of human wisdom. Parts of it might possibly help a youngster or two who are going through what I went through… but frankly I don’t foresee it being popular enough to get into their hands.

And I wouldn’t bother writing it just for myself, because I don’t do that, or need to do that, or even want to do that.

So I don’t know why the thought keeps returning. Why I’m attracted to the idea of the project.

Any ideas, friends?

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