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Portraits of Heroes |
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They smile back at us
As if wondering, “What’s all the fuss?”
Eternally alive and well
Despite their dance with the denizens of hell
As if they’d never felt the pain
As if in their hearts they held no blame
As if comforting anguished hearts they left
Forever bringing pain to families bereft.
They fought freedom’s foe
To hell and back did go
Contending for right in a fight mid storm clouds of terror
Felt violent anger’s sting in frenzied furor
Coupling deepest dread, with imminent danger’s apprehension
Touched by disparate emotions, joy and trepidation
Feeling deep rewards of a job well done
Having seen in smiling faces of the oppressed, the shining
sun.
Proudly their all, for all of us they gave
Only a stepping stone from birth to grave…
O, but heroes have felt the pain
Coming down brick hard in pouring rain
Wracked in hating insurgents disdain
Ordained to never allow one moments peaceful sleep
Stare at the picture of the man, and for him weep
Kneel before his earthly image, let forlorn wet rivers seep.
Look in the eyes.
Know the pain… feel that which therein lies.
Know they are not there, to heaven’s firmament they rise
These, our children, warriors, the fruit of America’s womb.
Our fathers and brothers met the grim reaper of doom.
Mothers and daughters, still with that rosy cheeked bloom
With bravery faced the war demon’s thrust
Through and through, back from whence they came, life to
dust
Bloody primordial rust.
With glory laud, and honor begotten
Gone now, but never forgotten
They at once blessed this life
Tackled willingly, challenges beset with hurdles rife
Diligently discussed it, and cussed it
Till death emptied war weary eyes of life’s sweet essence
Sent brave spirits reeling to the Sublime Omnipresence
Seeking purest love in the great Supernal Quintessence.
O what comfort that sweet sentence gives
He lives!
Once dead sisters, brothers, children, parents… in loving
arms
Far away from hostilities back in “the world” of harm’s
Now lay forever in comfort’s repose
In heaven’s rest on Celestial R and R, I suppose
Preparing the way for loved ones by paradisiacal
reconnaissance
Building mansions on high in perfection’s excellence…
Abiding in the great land of love in holy peacefulness. |
By
Gary Jacobson
Copyright 2005
Listed
June 29, 2010 |
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About
Author...
In 1966-67, Gary Jacobson served with B Co
2nd/7th 1st Air Cavalry in Vietnam as a combat infantryman and is the recipient of the Purple
Heart.
Gary, who resides in Idaho writes stories he
hopes are never forgotten, perhaps compelled by
a Vietnamese legend that says, “All poets are
full of silver threads that rise inside them as
the moon grows large.” So Gary says he
writes because “It is that these silver
threads are words poking at me – I must let them
out. I must! I write for my brothers who cannot
bear to talk of what they’ve seen and to educate
those who haven’t the foggiest idea about the
effect that the horrors of war have on
boys-next-door.”
Visit Gary Jacobson's site for more information
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use this poem without the author's permission.
~~ Send your comments and/or use permission request to
Gary Jacobson. ~~ | |
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