It's Memorial Day and instead of my usual Flander's Field post, I thought I would offer you a poem written by my dad...a man of many talents. Poetry writing was one that surprised me, but when you are in your 20's and in Europe fighting the Nazis, there comes a need to express yourself. Here is how he did it.
Night of Terror
Darkness is upon us.
The sun is down.
The moon shines, faintly,
From a cloud filled sky.
Slowly, cautiously, we move
Feeling our way about
In search of a spot
To make our beds.
Beds made of blankets
Upon a crimson, foreign soil,
Drenched by the rains and snows
Of storms of recent months.
We go to bed, knowing full well
That before the dawn
Our blood may spill
Upon this alien, slimy mud.
Silence reigns, broken only
By the changing of the guard,
A machine gun's rattle, or
Cracks of a rifle, sharp and clear.
The enemy is everywhere.
We toss, but sleep as best we can,
Waiting for the dawn to soften
Fear that darkness tends to magnify.
The night drags on.
Blackness at last gives way
To streaks of gray, and soon the
Welcomed dawn breaks, bright and clear.
I miss my dad. (He passed away on Election Day 2000...Bush/Gore...remember that day? We all went to the polls anyway, knowing he would have wanted that.)
I am grateful that I live in the USA and I am grateful for all the soldiers who have served to protect us.
God bless America.
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2 comments:
Linda,
Thanks for sharing! Your father was a talented man.
Barb
Wow! Didn't know your father was a poet--now I know from whom you get your talent for poetry!! Great poem--very sobering to realize what our soldiers go through. Thanks for sharing.
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