Rememberance

My son, C.J.

His dirty, stubby hand grasped the wooden staff
of each flag tightly, running his index finger
up and down the smooth surface of each one
before gingerly placing the symbol of freedom
on each gravesite carefully and respectfully,
while saying softly, “Thank you for all you’ve done.”

Examining each letter in granite, he moves his mouth
forming syllables of the names, one by one,
that curl across his tongue and moisten his lips.
Names he’s never heard of; people long gone.
At the tender age of eight with bountiful freckles,
brushing his dirty, blonde hair out of his blue eyes
he stops to glance up at the grey skies and the building
clouds above.

Undaunted, he places all 150 flags.

 

If Today Was Your Last Day - Nickelback

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

Photo made the words come alive. Thank you for the outstanding story. These kind of stories make a old veteran like me proud to be a American. Thank you.
Coyote

[An owl on the moon]

Such a powerful, vivid image of reflection, of thankfulness, of hope for the next generation. Incredible words. Thank you for this write!