This loss is very hard upon his mother:
Enduring first his birth and then his death.
The time between -scarcely a generation-
But in that short span of time he proved his worth.
They are too few, the proud who wear the emblem,
And fight our countries battles in our stead.
When they found him, his position was surrounded
By the bleeding bodies of Jihadist dead.
Enroll his name among our Countries’ heroes
Remember him for all of time to come,
But put away the medal they awarded-
I need no medal to recall my son.
My brave strong son who first fought in Fallujah,
and battled militants in Kandahar.
He joined the fallen as his tour was ending
Hearts can't be mended with a golden star..
In the dark days that now will be our portion,
I will ponder certain questions in my mind:
Was this sacrifice truly required?
Is our suffering random or by design?
Jan 10, 2012
Jan 10, 2012 at 7:15 PM UTC
This loss is very hard upon his mother:
Enduring first his birth and then his death.
The time between -scarcely a generation-
But in that short span of time he proved his worth.
They are too few, the proud who wear the emblem,
And fight our countries battles in our stead.
When they found him, his position was surrounded
By the bleeding bodies of Jihadist dead.
Enroll his name among our Countries’ heroes
Remember him for all of time to come,
But put away the medal they awarded-
I need no medal to recall my son.
My brave strong son who first fought in Fallujah,
and battled militants in Kandahar.
He joined the fallen as his tour was ending
Hearts can't be mended with a golden star..
In the dark days that now will be our portion,
I will ponder certain questions in my mind:
Was this sacrifice truly required?
Is our suffering random or by design?
The poem" Semper fi" is a work of FICTION It was inspired by a poem written by Padraig Pearse the night before his execution by firing squad after the failed Easter Rising of 1916. I have changed the point of view from the mother to the father and updated the poem to the recent past.. My son is an ACCOUNTANT, not a MARINE. I am stressing this because this poem, in an earlier version, was misunderstood to be based on Fact. Here is the excellent poem which inspired my lesser effort:
The Mother
I do not grudge them: Lord, I do not grudge
My two strong sons that I have seen go out
To break their strength and die, they and a few,
In ****** protest for a glorious thing,
They shall be spoken of among their people,
The generations shall remember them,
And call them blessed;
But I will speak their names to my own heart
In the long nights;
The little names that were familiar once
Round my dead hearth.
Lord, thou art hard on mothers:
We suffer in their coming and their going;
And tho' I grudge them not, I weary, weary
Of the long sorrow--And yet I have my joy:
My sons were faithful, and they fought.
-- Padraic H Pearse
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