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On Independance Day

Here is a small tribute to all of those who bled and died so I might live this amazing life of comfort, security, and privilege.

Iwo Jima

why do I weep at
the thought of
those young men
I never knew;
boys really,
not of my blood
not even of
my generation?

how can I explain it;
I who have never known
real violence;
only the merest
rumor of
implacable hatred?

the way I boil
with sadness and
bitter, hopeless loss
reminded of
their earnest youth
their terror,
their sacrifice,
their wondrous,
willing deaths.


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