Ghosts walk these streets
The remnants of conflicts
of the past
Blood was spilled for soil
and the spoils
of war are baked beans
hotdogs
hamburgers
and coleslaw

The ghosts smile at the
peace,
passing through the streets
filled with the smell of
food and good times

These ghosts fought hard
and died well

Never let their egos swell
past the pins and medals fastened
to their chests

Never sat in judgement over
the mirth and laughter had
at their expense

Never reveled in boastful pride
or worried whether anyone
remembered why they died

But to be happy in their deaths
that the living could be
thankful
greatful
and speak kind words with their breaths

For judgement about how
someone spent a Sunday sulking
to the extent
of how history would affect
the macaroni and cheese
was for the living to worry about

A lot could be learned from a ghost
if we stilled our beating hearts to listen
if we let those be what they will be
and worry about me
instead of thee

Some light candles and say a prayer
Some light grills with no frills.
Some put their feet up and sleep
happy for the extra day off.

These ghosts smile similarly
upon all of them contentedly
happy to see
that they died a death of honor
so that we could live free.