Memorial Day

Three hundred fifty
And fourteen
Days to wait for this
One time a year
To lay down our pencils
And remember those
Who lay down their lives

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What would Walt Whitman say of the state of the Union?
He who imagined us from way back then, remembering him
He who walked the fields of death in that least civil of all wars
Brother fighting kin, dying and maiming
And bleeding in Northern and Southern woods
With awful musket balls, rifle shells, sharp shrapnel
Canon fodder, flying lead and all manner of projectiles thick overhead
In cold wet fields and in dark old barns
On crutches in stretchers in backyard they bled
They came in troops with uniforms and left one by one
We all die one by one, naked and alone

What would old Walter have to say?
He who loved brother, sister, sailor, soldier, footman
Recognizing we are not connected, but are one.
One country, under God, indivisible
The great Revolution and since then
So many wars and so many gone
Or returned home with scars and lack of limb
Lack of opportunity, save mercenary
Naked and alone we come into this world
And back that route so we shall go


David Rheins Blogs at:www.davidrheins.wordpress.com
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