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Drums |
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A flag unfurled
from the mouth of the wind...
Drumbeat of silence.
Heartbeat of memory.
Warriors sleep beyond the grave.
The sky is dreaming.
Home are the brave!
My brothers will journey
unto a world of themselves,
sharing a thousand agonies
and they shall seem as one.
The Granite Valley will welcome them
all names whispering
a bond that lives forever.
And I,
and my brothers-in-arms
far away, will journey in our hearts
to be with them
as whispers upon a cool grey wind.
... will follow them
as boot prints of history
pointing the way
... the only way home!
�I am one of the living
casualties of war.
Wounded in the heart
and soul.
Something has died!
I don't what it is,
my youth perhaps
that died broken
upon the anvil of Drums.
... within the green, hot valleys
that cried
beneath mountains and mist
and monsoon rains
... and loved the Ky Nam incense
drifting in the night air,
burning,
... burning!
... burning still.
I am the old man
who touched your names in 1999!
Strange
...when soldiers are carved
in memory
as well as stone.
And I
am that one tear
falling
into the eye of tomorrow! |
By
Lou J. Klaiber
Copyright 2002
Listed
December 17, 2009 |
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