Sat down to write a tribute to this soldier, and a critique of our nation's leaders after watching this CBS 60 minute segment.  But as is my wont, I listen to music as I compose, but this time the song was the exact answer to what I wanted to express, much of want to say, almost all of how I felt.

First watch the segment, then read the lyrics to one of Willie Nelson's signature songs, written by Ry Cooder, John Hiatt, and Jim Dickinson. Added the YouTube video of Willie singing as well.

If it helps, change the Rio Grande to Afghanistan.

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http://www.cbsnews.com/video/watch/?id=50157505n
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Across The Borderline
(Ry Cooder/John Hiatt/James Dickinson)

There's a place where I've been told
Every street is paved with gold
And it's just across the borderline
And when it's time to take your turn
Here's one lesson that you must learn
You could lose more than you'll ever hope to find

When you reach the broken promised land
And every dream slips through your hands
Then you'll know that it's too late to change your mind
'Cause you've paid the price to come so far
Just to wind up where you are
And you're still just across the borderline

Up and down the Rio Grande
A thousand footprints in the sand
Reveal a secret no one can define
The river flows on like a breath
In between our life and death
Tell me who's the next to cross the borderline

But hope remains when pride is gone
And it keeps you moving on
Calling you across the borderline

When you reach the broken promised land
Every dream slips through your hands
And you'll know it's too late to change your mind
'Cause you pay the price to come so far
Just to wind up where you are
And you're still just across the borderline
Now you're still just across the borderline
And you're still just across the borderline
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Here is the YouTube of Willie singing the song.


http://youtu.be/vi9sXy9eRyA
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More on Capt. Will Swenson

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-3445162-57608305/a-heros-tale/


http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-18563162-57603788/medal-of-honor-winner-shows-bravery-tenderness/

http://www.cbsnews.com/8301-35277_162-57607565/william-swenson-afghan-war-veteran-awarded-medal-of-honor-by-pres­ident-obama/

Yo soy el antípoda del poeta americano
Poets in the wind
Yo soy el cadáver de la tumba
Horses in the bed
Yo soy el alabastro californiano
California is my dream
Yo soy el sueño de California
Tiffany's bay
Chocolate brew
Yo soy la Costa Oeste
West coast lips
Adiós to California, Juan
Adios to California, John
Not John Coltrane
Not John Smith
Not John Bach
John Hiatt is the name

Jami Belle,
<smiles>
I knew there was one more name to yours when I met you
And I asked you about it
And you said and you laughed:
"Peterson. I hate it though."
I could change that.
Does Hiatt sound nice? It did at the time. Jami Belle Hiatt.
A nice ring.
You liked it.
God I miss you.

Call me Michael if it pleases you. Call me Daniel, Jack, I don't care. Hippy, nerd, creep, weird, gay, weak, loser, ******, fat, stupid, illiterate, anti-social, addict, dog, *******, anything. I've been called it all.
Some of it makes me smile, some of it hides the shine in my eyes.
But all of it is nothing, because I know you are human, and I, I am Marshall Coleson Blaine Hiatt.

And I love all of you.

I know this sweet scent,
It comes from your timber hair,
This euphoria.

Two wings on her back,
Shredded by a devil,
Healing in safety.

Love is a harsh word,
It causes so much hatred,
Unbalanced feelings.

I once compared knights,
Walking among the armor,
Wings crushed by my fear.

This freedom so great,
Weightless as the air we breathe,
Never a soul like you.

A soul like that boy,
Impossible to amend,
He has no mind still.

A ghost parading,
Traversing with no good thoughts,
Only a black fire.

My levity; you,
A cherub, my shield,
I love you, Angel.

Right here, on this ground,
A war unseen, a retreat,
An open defense.

Unguarded, weakened,
I lay in this angel’s arms,
My only support.                                -Marshall Hiatt, February 2013

I am searching for a soul in the darkness,
A light I may have found.
The seventh sense of mankind,
The fourth primary color.
The chord you cannot hear,
The not that isn't strummed.

I am searching for love.
         And I may fave found it here.

                                  -Marshall Hiatt
                                             1-24-14

When you come near, I can’t disappear into my mind,
When it’s so clear, I can see what you were trying to find,

I’m so done.
I guess nobody won.

‘Cause hours like these, come with dead flowers around,
And towers like these, always come showering down,

I can’t pretend.
That wasn’t the end.

Some parts of me, come with holes- for you to see,
Some parts of me, parts of my soul- have holes that bleed,

The good parts of me, can fold and come undone,
You versus me, I guess nobody won.

                ~Marshall Hiatt, 11:25 PM, 11-13-13.