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He was a soldier
Proud of his country, proud to serve it Proud of his parents, proud of his wife Proud to await the birth of his first child, his son The son who will never look into his father's eyes. The front of the church, the dais, the pulpit Awash in red, white & blue blossoms His fatigues, his boots, his helmet, his gun, his portrait A broken heart of chrysanthemums His casket proudly bathed in stars & stripes His young wife is stoic and brave, as he was Her chin held high in defiance of those who killed him His parents sit proudly in respect of their only child Silent tears of loss flow rather than open sobs His father wears blue rather than black James wouldn't have wanted sobs or black, he says The congregation is crowded with friends & family His teachers, community leaders, strangers Soldiers from all branches in all ranks Soldiers, there to pay tribute to one of their own To their brother fallen in duty to his country Their country Our country The hymns are old and mostly familiar, Particularly the last "My country, 'tis of thee, sweet land of liberty" Sung loudly, proudly, around choked tears The drive to the cemetery is slow and reverent Led by a long caravan of flashing lights, Texas Rangers, firemen, policemen Vehicles on the road are stopped, hushed & stilled Drivers stand outside them, silently All place their hands over their hearts Most hold flags Veterans stand at attention, some salute A UPS courier stands beside her truck, Tears running down her cheeks Shopkeepers and customers come outside All place their hands over their hearts Most hold flags |
On the lonely side road to the Texas Ranger cemetery
The silence is deafening No roaring engines, no airplanes, no laughter of children Only a single church bell, the rustle of leaves, The quiet flap of flags in the breeze Hundred of flags, perhaps thousands In the hands of teenagers In the hands of young children Standing bravely at attention, looking straight ahead 25 feet apart on both sides of the curbless, country road Two and a half miles of patriots giving honor to their fallen brother Bag pipes welcome the crowd A highly-decorated color guard carry him A twenty-one gun salute announces his departure Twin trumpets play "Taps" as his sending song The pristine perfection of the flag Folded and presented to his wife, his parents His flag Our flag White roses and a single red left atop the polished wood Embraces of pain Whispers of heartfelt sorrow The long walk back begins He died with eight of his brothers So we can live in freedom He died so that others need not fear death At the hands of their own leader He died so that his son would not have to grow up in a world of terrorism. He is our son, he belongs to all of us. And he has given his life in service to our country Mourn him and honor his sacrifice Honor those who have gone before Honor those who will go after. He died for us. |