We watched the flickering images,

Boys wading through sticky mud,

Metal monsters jerking across the plain,

Moths, afire, falling from the sky,

Grand-dad said nothing, he knew.

 

Next the monsters spat fire,

The lines of boats, beach-bound,

Boys crawling through black sand,

Hornets angrily roaring and buzzing,

My dad said nothing, he knew.

 

Boys coming back, dejected and tired,

From sneaking through the dark forest,

Riding the hummingbirds, and jumping,

Hiding in the hollows and soft folds,

My friends said nothing, they knew.

 

Babies running in the sand, burdened,

The monsters crushing someone’s home,

Bees, dropping their loads, whiz past,

Broken and smashed centipedes burn,

Our children say nothing, they know.

 

Precious freedom is dearly bought,

The bullets, the shells, the bombs,

The old rocket’s red glare,

Now, I too, know that

Freedom costs lives.

 

Remember them and give thanks.

11-11-11

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