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A child was once born and then how he grew.
Just what he'd be, ain't nobody knew.
A rancher? A lawyer? A welder of steel?
A banker? A postman? A farmer of fields?
His whole life before him.
He made it through high school and at graduation,
Said that he wanted to defend this great nation.
"Why, son that's just crazy, you've made a mistake.
Your chances of dyin' are just too darn great."
He knew what he wanted.
He listened politely and when they were through,
He said "This is something I just have to do."
"I know there's a war goin' on in the sand.
But I'd rather fight there, than in my homeland."
He valued our freedom.
With red eyes and tears flowing down his mom's face
His dad shook his hand and said "Come back safe".
He boarded the bus and then grabbed him a seat
His family was waving goodbye from the street.
He smiled at them bravely.
Sitting in classrooms or crawling through dirt
His head filled with knowledge, his body with hurt.
Weapons and tactics in heat, cold and rain,
The DI kept yellin' "NO PAIN, NO GAIN!"
He never gave up.
After "Boot Camp" and "A School" he went home again
To visit his parents and old hometown friends.
He told �em all stories �bout things he had learned,
His folks were amazed how mature he had turned.
He told them he loved them.
His dad said "I'm proud" as tears welled in his eyes,
His mom said she loved him then hugged him and sighed.
A desert was waiting at the end of his flight.
The only thing left was to get in the fight.
He hoped he was ready.
In "up-armored Hummers" wearin' Kevlar and NOD's
Yet with all that protection, he still prayed to God.
IEDs, mortars and suicide bombers,
Hell-bent on serving Muhammad and Allah.
He saw carnage daily.
The sniper that killed him was up on a roof.
An AC-130 turned the place into dust.
He won't join his buddies on patrol any more,
Back at his folks' house, there's a knock at the door.
His enlistment is over.
Tho' Arlington has room for many more graves,
They wanted him buried where he was born and raised.
His mom got the flag in which he was wrapped.
Then tears fell like rain as the bugle played TAPS.
He's waiting for judgement.
A child was aborted in some sterile clinic.
Hippocrates' oath broke when the doc did it.
A chance to excel, that child never was given,
With the scalpel's first cut, a soul entered in Heaven.
He's an innocent victim.
A father? A builder? A cure for disease?
With no chance at life, he'd do none of these.
For pure selfish reasons the "choice" has been made
The miracle of life, destroyed, that God gave.
He sings with the angels.
One life was given while serving with pride.
One life was taken, with no chance to fight.
One life was honored for his sacrifice,
One life was wasted, deprived of his rights.
One hero, one victim. | By Ken B. Harper
Copyright 2007
Listed February 20, 2008 |
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