A Warriors Final Call

Folded with respect and pride

A triangle flag, with love caressed

Holds a place of high esteem

Within its wooden crest.

Once draped a coffin somber

As within, a warrior slumbered

Or sits beside a wooden box

In which contained, all that remained, ashes...

Of a hero, whose blood, selfless, he sacrificed

Tears, flinching as fired cannons cast

Melancholy shadows, of warriors past

No matter in what nation he served,

In freedom's fight for all that's right,

This is the least that he's deserved

I honor those who stand and fight

Volunteering to protect

Where others turn and run in fright

When at war's crossroads, they intercept

Those whose plan for grief and harm

They grimly fight and battle on

And even injured, with last breath

Press ever forward, sounding the alarm.

Though oft deaf ears refuse to heed

That warning from a warrior fallen

Red heat, free-flowing as he'd bleed

Cacophony of war, it's rages fading

Hearing loved ones' voices

In his final moments calling.

*This poem is my tribute to those who have served, to those who have returned from the theaters of war, and to those, especially, who never made it home to hold their loved ones again, whose spirits live on in their loved ones' hearts forever.

I honor you.