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Contact me via neashahill@gmail.com
Leave your question’s and thoughts below or sign up to follow me :))
I didn’t expect to get sucked into such a vivid memory of Treeny, however there I was in my mind, on that sandy beach, holding the only person that I loved like a grandmother, leaning over her lifeless body. Blood soaked her clothes and now covered me like warm paint, and the gun that did it lie nearby. I guess staring at the black holstered guns on the FBI agent’s hips, nestled into their persona like a limb is what pulled me backwards into long ago.
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Whatcha think? Is it Hook worthy?
I watched the flag pass by one day.
It fluttered in the breeze.
A young Marine saluted it,
And then he stood at ease.
I looked at him in uniform
So young, so tall, so proud,
With hair cut square and eyes alert
He’d stand out in any crowd.
I thought how many men like him
Had fallen through the years.
How many died on foreign soil?
How many mothers’ tears?
How many pilots’ planes shot down?
How many died at sea?
How many foxholes were soldiers’ graves?
No, freedom isn’t free.
I heard the sound of taps one night,
When everything was still
I listened to the bugler play
And felt a sudden chill.
I wondered just how many times
That taps had meant “Amen,”
When a flag had draped a coffin
Of a brother or a friend.
I thought of all the children,
Of the mothers and the wives,
Of fathers, sons and husbands
With interrupted lives.
I thought about a graveyard
At the bottom of the sea
Of unmarked graves in Arlington.
No, freedom isn’t free.
Each donned their uniform to be
Defenders of our liberty
Their mission sure, their spirits bright
Guard freedom’s home, be brave to fight
One final day each faced their call
Each gave their best enduring all
We’ll never know what they went through
But know they loved this country true
Deep down inside we should all feel
What heroes gave, their cost so real
We must stay thankful, grateful of
The gift of freedom through their love
Their loved ones bore the gravest pain
What we can’t know, some now sustain
To God I pray their pain will cease
And each will find long-lasting peace
Remember this from year to year
What heroes gave – shan’t disappear
We’ll never let their special day
Their time for honor slip away
These brave fought for a nation free
If not for them, where would we be?
by
©2001Roger J. Robicheau (Sp 5, US Army)
The Poetic Plumber