Jay Thomas mounting the M2 .50 Caliber Machine gun

A Soldier’s Burden

I’ve walked through fire, braved the storm, A soldier’s life, where hearts stay warm. Yet hidden wounds, a silent weight, Trauma whispers, altering fate.

*click here if you cannot access the rest of the article*

Roadside bombs, the cruelest blow, My mind, once clear, now moves too slow. Migraines, vertigo, constant pain, The echoes linger, sharp and plain.

A hidden scar, a deep divide, A journey long, no place to hide. Through darkness thick, I’ve chased the light, A soldier’s will remains in sight.

Though battles rage inside my head, I rise each day, leave none unsaid. A veteran’s burden, heavy, sure, But with resilience, I endure.

Jay Thomas and fellow Soldiers assess damage of RG-31 after IED Blast

The Story Behind “A Soldier’s Burden”

In 2011, my world changed in an instant. One moment, I was moving through the desert, focused on the mission like any other day, and the next — a flash, a sound, and then nothing but chaos. The roadside bomb ripped through the silence, sending shock waves through my body. My mind and senses scattered in all directions as if the blast had taken not just my equilibrium but a piece of me.

That day, I was struck by an IED, a moment I’ll never forget. But what people don’t often talk about is what comes after — the silent aftermath, the wounds you can’t see, the ones that linger long after the visible scars fade.

I spent years in recovery, and now in 2024, I’m still fighting, still feeling the effects. The migraines, the vertigo, the constant reminders of a mind that doesn’t function the way it used to. I go to appointment after appointment, trying to manage the pain, trying to piece together the fragments that the blast scattered.

This poem, “A Soldier’s Burden,” was born out of that ongoing battle, not just for me but for all the brothers and sisters in arms who have faced the same pain. It’s for every soldier who knows what it feels like to have your life altered in an instant, to carry the hidden weight of a traumatic brain injury, to fight battles long after the uniform comes off.

We walk through fire, we face storms. But the hardest fight is the one that never quite ends — the battle to reclaim pieces of yourself from the grip of trauma. There’s something about those silent wounds, the ones people can’t see, that make the burden so much heavier. It’s isolating, exhausting, and sometimes it feels like the war follows you home.

But still, we rise. I rise. Because that’s what we do.

Jay Thomas poses next to damaged RG-31 after IED attack

Jay Thomas by the Buffalo