Behind enemy lines you gave your life,
The risks you knew and embraced willingly,
Red, black and green berets fought by your side,
And brought your body back to family.

Later in a ritual of their own,
They would name a field airport in your name,
And honor you, your brothers, far from home,
Their memory now your eternal flame.

I do not know your rank, your name, your face,
I only know that I am in your debt,
Who for your family can take your place?
Our debt to them we must never forget.

The freedom I enjoy comes thanks to you,
And all who serve with honor, proud and true.

It’s happened
Death to
Fellow classmate
Student
Alumni
There are many of them
That goes through this
How we remember them
Honor them
Praise them
For their hard work
Getting where they are now
Some move on
To a successful career
And long lives
While others are short lived
While other suffer
Unexplainable disease
Unexpected crashes
These are ones who we mourn
These are the ones that we remember
The unexplainable
Unexpected ones
They are ones that make an impact on us
It seem sad that they have to die first
In order to be remembered
By others
It is out of our hands
There is no stopping this
All that we can do
Is pray that death won’t come to
Our classmates
Our friends
Our alumni
Us.

i miss the girl I was
the one who trusted Paul and Mike
the cousin and the uncle
because they always hanged out in the house
and narrated a lot of stories
because they complemented my transition to womanhood
and looked forward to meeting my husband
i miss the girl I was
before they did the same thing at differently
before my favorite dress became tatters
before I screamed till I fainted
before the **** and the bleeding and the crying
before fear for men became a second skin
before sleep became something I couldn't afford
before incessant hooting set a tent in my head
i miss those days,
by the pool and porch,
swimming and laying on the grass to dry
sipping juice during Christmas eve
i miss those days,
especially 10th July and 24th September
i miss those days,
when I was their blood
and they wanted the best for family
if you happen to see those days
or my first face,
tell them and her I miss them
I just do.

I've seen your trenches,and I've seen your graves,
I've heard of your weapons and heard of your slaves,
I've imagined the fumes and imagined the rain,
I've imagined the sights but can't imagine the pain.
Not from bayonets,nor shrapnel blasting out,
But from the vision of the gunshot taking the Fritz down.
From the riddling guilt as your hand pulled the trigger,
Which wiped out the unknown,young German figure.
From the nightmares of his family collapsing at the news,
That their beloved son had succumbed to his wounds.
You look over these beaten fields awash with confusion,
Wondering how on Earth humans partake in such delusion.
How they thought,somehow,it'd be the most fitting plan:
"To sort out all of the world's problems-set man after man!".
You walked out on that field regardless, till your last dying breath.
And you made sure,under all circumstances, to fight until death.
For this I'm forever grateful and still can't suffice,
Why we give you two minutes a year, when you gave us your life.

in a perfect world,
i am not plagued with ever-present sorrow
i am not a hostage to my own emotions
i am not a caretaker to the rationalization of loss
in a perfect world,
my desire to jump headfirst isn’t tinged with shattered memories of abandonment
my "I love you’s" aren’t followed up with a thought of when those words will eventually fade into nothing
my body isn’t marked by those who did not love me
in a perfect world,
i get along with my father
i see my sister and my brother as often as i’d like
and all the things i now consider a "broken family" do not have definitions to me
in a perfect world,
my mom watches me graduate college
she watches me walk down the aisle in a white wedding gown
she is there to witness the birth of my children
and gush about how elegant their names are
and how much they look like me
in a perfect world,
my mom is just a phone call away
never unreachable due to night or day
and i have an unlimited amount of "I love you’s" for the rest of our lives
but this isn’t a perfect world
and that, i’ve come to accept
i just hope when i scream "I love you" to the stars,
she hears me.

The eulogies resound in stentorian tones for the great,
those of prominence, those who have ascended to the pinnacle,
those who have known power, and who have changed worlds,
whose names fall from the lips of every man, who are offered
unencumbered embrace, a deferential half pace backward.
But what of the good man, without position, sans societal perch,
whose wealth is paltry, accomplishment meager,
yet whose effort is no less herculean, no less courageous,
whose heart is no less pure, the good man doomed to failure
through paucity of talent, or missed opportunity,
or plain bad fortune, yet who resolves to continue, plod foot after foot to anonymous end, and whose name will not be voiced in so much as a whisper for all eternity.