a prayer for your soft landing,
a prayer for your limbs, your soul
for the day you went in all alone
the day you said, “I’ll do it,”
“I’ll atone”
picking up the torch your forefathers bore
that last time when there was a war
~
mine was a generation of doves, our wings
beating for the harmony that could still sing
beating against the corporate kill
our tears for soldiers facing the ill
our tears for soldier’s blood and limbs
and all the hope that such wars spilled
~
you, bravely born into another time
another set of quests, same mines
now your souls, shored, and shoring
bearing up the old man’s burdens
on this day of mourning
~
don’t let them kill what’s best in you
keep that in your heart, your mind, your limbs
your upraised arms that screech
a civilization’s wounding, on some beach
~
know somewhere your mother is weeping
to a soldier on the shore
her lost sons stung by stings of war
~
“to a soldier on the shore” — copyright 2011 — all rights reserved
