Dec 2014
We tend to assume
that freedom is a right, God's gift
But do you know the hours they slaved away,
the days spent patrolling borders,
all for our safety?
In wars, they'd drown in blood
One, two, three, slipping between the depths
Never to rise again,
fight again,
go home to their families and smile again
And we lie again,
to our naive little souls
Because what better and blissful ignorance
than to pretend the land we live on
did not come at the price of our soldiers backs,
Tears, willpower,
To say that we are truly
The land of the free
that freedom is a right, God's gift
But do you know the hours they slaved away,
the days spent patrolling borders,
all for our safety?
In wars, they'd drown in blood
One, two, three, slipping between the depths
Never to rise again,
fight again,
go home to their families and smile again
And we lie again,
to our naive little souls
Because what better and blissful ignorance
than to pretend the land we live on
did not come at the price of our soldiers backs,
Tears, willpower,
To say that we are truly
The land of the free
Based off a painting we looked at for a warm up in my Poets Workshop class. It was a happy family and home by a coast being held up by a group of soldiers with guns that were standing in a pool of blood. Our job was to interpret that painting and write about it.
