IT IS THE SOLDIER
It is the Soldier, not the Reporter,
who has given us Freedom of the Press.
It is the Soldier, not the Poet,
who has given us Freedom of Speech.
It is the Soldier, not the Lawyer,
who has given us the Right to a Free Trial.
It is the Soldier, who salutes the Flag,
who serves under the Flag,
and whose coffin is draped by the Flag,
who allows the Protestor to burn the Flag.
Author Unknown
Assault in Primary Colors
The sky was blue, the grass bright green;
The whitest cloud you've ever seen
Drifted gently, all alone,
Over the wire in the killing zone.
The sun, a yellow disk, burned bright,
And put the morning mists to flight;
The song of a bird in the high clear air
Came through amid the napalm's glare.
Around the world is darkest night,
The moon and stars glow shiny, bright,
Mothers tuck children snug in bed;
My boots are full of blood, bright red.
Of all the things that I have seen,
The jungle is the deepest green;
The ocean gently laps the sand.
I hold a grenade in a trembling hand.
Our shots flew true to young men's hearts;
The barbed wire full of body parts.
My days seem filled with remembered screams,
But I can't, as yet, remember my dreams.
Copyright © 1995 James M. Hopkins
Eulogy for a Veteran
Do not stand at my grave and weep.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the Gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight,
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.
author unknown |