Saints and Heroes
(Click his picture.)
You didn't even know me then
for I was yet to be;
You were full of passion then,
in nineteen forty-three.
You heard the call of Uncle Sam,
and stood up to be counted;
Amid the righteous rally calls,
the hostile skies you mounted.
They told you war was hell to pay,
the cost was made well known;
But how were you to understand,
the cost would be your own?
My soul has eyes that see you there,
preparing for a jump;
Nimble fingers, breathless sighs,
collecting in a lump.
Freedom's sons approach the doorway,
the mother plane gives birth;
Scores of silken mushroom caps
descend in silent prayer to Earth.
Soon the heat of battle comes,
the smoke, the sweat, the tears;
With reckless rage you sally forth,
and swallow all your fears.
Heroes wisely hold their peace,
they have no tales to tell;
The shroud of silence, evermore
tolls a mournful weary bell.
Saints speak not of fear and pain,
they never count their tears;
The agony and grief remain,
buried deep beneath the years.
Your eyes betray a secret sadness,
so guarded, veiled and hid;
Of burdens you have never shared,
of sordid
things you saw and did.
The price of peace was paid by you,
and your courageous brothers;
We owe a debt of gratitude.
to you and all the others.
I feel it now, I see it well,
as if you were my son;
It breaks my heart, it swells my breast
By such as you, the war was won!
Copyright © 1995 Kathy L. Casper. All rights reserved.