Listen to the sound of the chopper blades
Stirring up dirt and dust,
Feel the vibrations in your chest.
Listen to the sounds of the flags
being caught in the wind.
It sounds like the soft “ping” of
Church bells and others,
A loud clap in the distance
To grab someone’s attention.
Look at the red, white, and blue,
Passing by in a blur on the pavement.
Listen to the sound of loved ones,
feel the tears upon their cheeks.
To the sound of children,
so full of life and joy,
but yet so saddened and silent,
as the casket rolls by.
“He was so young,” someone whispers.
Another nods her head,
Comforting those who were closest to him.
See the officers,
Firefighters and fellow soldiers,
Standing so brave and silent,
heads held high,
hands in a salute to him,
as the rifles continue to fire.
We stop to let the procession roll past.
I hear the radio,
Playing an up-beat pop song
On this day,
That feels wrong.
Look at the people
Lined up along the street.
See the signs they made:
“God bless you,”
“You will be missed.”
I start to think of him
As a dearly beloved friend,
One I probably could have known.
Maybe I did know him,
And I just don’t remember.
He was probably once a joyous man,
so full of life and fire.
Ready to defend when the call came,
always understanding what it meant
to be a soldier in the good ol’ U.S of A.
Knowing his days might be numbered,
Knowing he might come home,
Just not in the way that he had left.
I wonder what his last thoughts were,
What he was feeling when it happened.
Did he think of his family?
Was he thinking about his next meal?
Or was he wondering,
What the hell am I doing here?
I guess we’ll never know.
I did not know him personally,
I did not know those closest to him.
I’ll never know what his favorite color was…
I bow my head in respect,
Listen to the stillness.
Feel the quiet,
And think of all the others
Out there still fighting.
So full of knowledge
About what can happen,
Still so willing to fight.