| War and Tragedy |  |
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I saw the flag
At half-mast fly
Over the rows of graves.
I walked among
The simple stones
And read the soldiers’ names.
I wondered if
Each rock was worth
The price the soldier paid.
Does liberty
Have such a price?
Must payments still be made?
I watched the guard
Walk silently
Among the Unknown dead.
He never quit
He never changed
His steady, measured tread.
Old Guard Army,
All volunteers,
The privilege is theirs
All day, all night,
In rain or shine,
The guard is always there.
A caisson moves
Its precious load
Across the silent field.
The entourage
Is close behind
The slowly turning wheels.
The family
Sits silently
As rifles fire their rounds.
Last words are said
Then tears are shed
Their hero’s in the ground. | By Ken B. Harper
Copyright 2007
Listed
December 13, 2007 |
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