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In Their Hands |
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In the hands of his
mother,
he was a fresh ball of clay,
a new soul to be molded,
as they both knelt to pray.
In the hands of his teacher,
he was a gift to our world,
learning like a sponge,
a grateful teacher’s pearl.
In the hands of his sergeant,
he was a weapon of war
he could lock and load
to kill the foe wherever they are.
In the hands of his enemy,
he was an animal to kill,
lest we treat each other
according to a higher will.
In the hands of his embalmer,
he was a body to be drained,
to be pieced back together
with whatever remained.
In the hands of his comrades,
he was a bro proudly borne
from the hearse to his grave,
and another patriot mourned.
In the hands of his Creator,
he was a loved one returned,
with no need to look back,
his earthen bridges burned. |
By Nancy L. Meek
Copyright 2007
Listed March 16, 2010 |
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About Author... Nancy is the proud wife of William “Billy” J. Meek, a Vietnam War
Veteran, who served with the 1st Cavalry Airmobile Division, 11th Aviation
Group, 228th Battalion, Co. B.
Nancy's website |
| It is illegal to use this poem without the author's permission.
~~ Send your comments and/or use permission request to
Nancy. ~~ | |
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