I wrote this a few years ago when a local boy came home, I post it again in memory of all who have served.
He came home today
but not to a ticker-tape parade.
Instead, a horse drawn wagon
processed to where he will be laid.
An improvised explosive
near his armored car
took the life we held so dear
and left us where we are,
standing at graveside,
with his flag draped coffin
after the twenty-one gun salute
waiting for Taps to begin.
They shared those bright blue eyes.
Now his mothers are closed, too sad.
His will never again look up to the sky.
There’s no comfort to be had.
Melora Johnson's Muse 