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How often, I sit in silence, as my mind drifts to days long lost … too, nights where horrors many did?  brightly light the skies… where men’s cries, shall never end. There, I ponder the weight of it all… What sorrow did gain, and what tears many fed‘Tis but the mournful memory of veterans long-dead… Who bled red, fields of clay… Who did climb the blooded redoubt, and with the trumpet's call did with steel greet death… Their cries now echo within my mournful soul... Who will go, who will plow those blooded fields anew?

Did freedom so loosely lay itself in death's way… That men presently would trample upon their grave… Upon, the memory of those… whose lives did bleed… That they may live in liberty! Where comes this arrogant nature in man... Too, take lightly the pain of others, who suffered in death? Where is their true memorial? Does it lie in the cold of the grave... in the rows of whited marble, or the colonnades of history's markers?

Does it lie… in the mouth of those, who so glibly label their pain of death… tyranny? By what horrible exercise of imperial power… did they die? And too what land do they now lay claim? For in their pain, they suffered for nothing more… than, man should live free… Free, from the tyrant's rage, and the ignorance of lesser men.

Where then comes this cry… from the high places in our land? Too, slander the brave and heroic… our forefathers, and their progeny… Whose house they did build, that we may live in freedom… How do these men speak and live? What manner of people, hold them in high esteem? Those who rob the graves of the righteous; who steal the sacrifice of liberties… guarantors.

By:

Ronald A. Nelson

COL., USArmy (Ret)