After the Streets of Ulster — My Own Account…

I walked those streets in Ulster’s rain,
Not as a shadow—but as a man in strain.
Boots on pavement, senses tight,
Every doorway held the night.

The Troubles lived behind each stare,
In broken glass and heavy air.
I felt it settle in my chest—
A constant weight, that gave no rest.

My uniform wore down my youth,
Thread by thread, it stripped the truth.
What I had seen, I could not say,
So I learned to lock it all away.

We spoke in half-words, nods, and looks,
Not stories written in open books.
Because the things that stayed with me
Had no place in memory set free.

Still, I told myself, stand fast—
No storm, however long, can last.
Find some light, however small,
Or the dark will take it all.

The lads beside me, steady, true,
Carried their silence just like I do.
No need for words—we understood
The cost of standing where we stood.

Even when the firing ceased,
The war within me never eased.
It hummed beneath the quiet air,
A distant drumbeat always there.

Coming home was not release,
Just a different kind of peace.
A child’s laugh might break the strain,
But never quite erase the pain.

I still recall those hills of green,
Before they turned to what I’d seen.
Yet somewhere deep, beneath it all,
A stubborn voice refused to fall.

It said—hold on, don’t lose your way,
Find a reason, day by day.
Because despite what I’ve been through,
There’s still a life worth holding to.

The Troubles carved their mark in me,
In ways that others will never see.
But I came back, I’m standing still—
And I choose joy… against my will…

By Paul Baldry

Refrains of Joy — After the Streets of Ulster

There are memories from my years serving in Northern Ireland that have never truly faded.

The rain-soaked streets, the constant tension, the friendships between soldiers, and the things we learned to keep to ourselves.

My latest poem, Refrains of Joy, reflects on those experiences and the battles that sometimes continue long after a soldier comes home.

It is not a poem of bitterness, but one of survival, reflection, and finding the courage to embrace life despite the memories we carry.

Because sometimes joy is not something we simply feel. It is something we choose.

By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)

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