Poem for Memorial Day
If these boots could talk I wonder what stories they could tell About the men and women who wore them during their war from hel
What I learned Without Realizing It
It seemed to me while in my youth Life is not fair and that’s the truth The rich the powerful the strong Impose on weak and poor a wrong A tank in World War Two I called “Ain’t No Justice” I was told You can’t do that change the name There are rule to play the game But fate stepped in another crew Went in that tank to Italy go And there a bomb five hundred weight Destroyed that tank the crew of fate And years of passing proved to me There “Ain’t No Justice” here I see And then I heard a wise man tell Justice is just a principle It’s not in truth reality While in this world for man to see But surely Justice must be served A day of Judgment is reserved When we shall stand before the bar A scroll unrolled tell what we are A bright remembrance of our guilt The Scales of Justice will not tilt Upon the final Judgment Day When Lord the Judge of all will say “Divide the Goats from our the Sheep… The Sheep with Me I’ll surely keep… All enter into joy with me Who kept My law so faithfully.
The faces of those who fell at Bunker Hill are as fresh in my mind today as those who perished at Gettysburg, Chateau-Thierry, Normandy, Pusan, Baghdad, and, yes, on United Flight 93. I know of the dreams each had for their family, and those their family had for them. And where they now lie, be it in my bosom or in some distant land makes no difference as every name and face is forever etched in my mind and heart. No, I can never forget these my children for I AM AMERICA, and I shall always remember.
Like it or not we are us: THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
As my finger gently glide across your name deeply engraved, The flood washes over me as I recall all you gave....
Let’s give them the help and care that they need
Incoming beat of helicopter rotors Whipping sand-laden air into The hot pulse of a Blackhawk Flaring with indecent haste A mess of stinging downwash.
A poem to honor all of America's warriors on the occasion of them making their "Final Roll Call." This poem has been read at the funeral ceremonies of hundreds of our fallen warriors. Copy and Share it with veterans and their families.