You've been here a while,

yet you do not recall,

the wind being always there.


Today you now truly see

what you've been missing,

while you were regressing.


You wonder why and think.

See, now, he reaches for his breast pocket,

and pulls out a dangling tag.


He brings it to his mouth and kisses it gently.

He does so with melancholic face,

and sets the tag upon a cross.


You say, "How odd. I've never seen that before"

The man turns and walks and pats your shoulder.

You think "How quaint, for that seemed to be forgiveful"


You look higher now,

noticing the field is full

of the white crosses.


You walk up to one and read

what has happened here before.


"This man fought for freedom,

and those oppressed.

He was one of the best"


You think, "where am I?"

and look over there.

A funeral procession with the few good men.


They hand to the crowd,

a cloth dipped in the blood of a friend,

strips of heaven laced in.

And the blue of the sea he swam.


Then, with the field of silver stars surrounding

this once Gold Star,

is folded and given.


Walking slowly afterwards

you ask what's this place?

They answer-


"The graves of these brave men.

The grass is here for the River is dry,

and the wind is their last breath"


"So remember these men,

For they have given all"

This poem is about: 
My country


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