A Tribute to Jayson, My Brave Warrior
My dear son, Jayson
When you called late last night to let me know
You were deploying to go overseas tomorrow
In spite of my great resolve
I broke down and sobbed.
The little boy I lovingly nurtured
So witty and good-natured
So kind, compassionate, and loving
You’ll always be my sweet boy
Even though the world now sees you as a grown man.
Recalling special times when I showered your baby face with kisses
Or tickled your armpits
Howling with laughter, you would beg me
“Do it again, Mommy, I love it!”
I remember all those moments we had
At times rocky, sometimes sad
But most of all memorable and enjoyable.
I remember your growing pains
All your questions, anxieties, and mixed-up emotions
Yes, we made it through hurdles you and I
Making me laugh, making me cry
But taking that journey together was quite priceless!
You’re now a strong, valiant, young man
Willingly putting your life on the line
Many have thanked you for your service
And, my brave warrior, I am so proud of you
When I hear your humble, heartfelt reply, “Glad to do it!”
You’re just simply the best!
While you took a minute to leave the nest
I’m grateful for the extra time we were given
But I know
It’s time to let you go –
Go take your rightful place in the world.
You’ve grown wings like a fierce eagle
It’s your time to fly high! Now soar!
But remember that you are always a part of me
And even though we may no longer hold hands
We are still holding hearts.
These tear-splattered pages
Reflect my anguished heart
Knowing you’re prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for your country
I pray that you will return to me safe and sound
I love you, my hero - my precious son.
¡Vaya con Dios!
Lonely I was when I stood staring at the sky
Had a gun in my hand, was too afraid to cry
Fought bitter battles and never lived to tell
How at the altar of freedom, my body fell
My soul searches for reasons as to why I died
Did I save my people, had I tried?
Do they remember me, my deeds, my name
Are they proud of me or did I bring them shame
My battered body stood testimony to my fate
My heart had stopped in a battle brought about by hate
I had screamed in pain, and shivered with fright
But before I died, I did put up a fight
Remember me, my beloved country
It was I, my men, who brought you victory
I fought to the last bullet in my gun
I was a soldier, I was your son
I have seen the "corners of the world,"
heard the songs of many languages.
I have helped bring peace from many wars,
and played with the poor children of many countries.
I have tasted the fine wines, spirits and beers,
ate the feasts fit for a king, scraps, and dry meal.
I have seen the militias of other countries,
and the destruction of towns and cities due to war.
I have experienced Many Things,
exciting, horrible, memorable and painstakingly unforgettable.
As I lay on my hospital cot,
I slip in and out of consciousness.
I think about the things I have done in my life,
and yet the things I haven't.
My family, my parents, marriage and kids.
I've made my parents proud,
became someone by raising in ranks.
I've brought safety to my country,
joy and pride to my friends and family.
But I haven't had the chance,
to watch my kids grow up and start their life.
To play baseball with my son and coach his soccer team,
to take my daughter shopping or threaten their dates.
I haven't had the chance
to live on in retirement.
To meet my grandchildren and spoil them,
with stories and watch their faces light up.
As I lay looking up at the white
Red Cross tent canvas,
I think about the regrets
that many soldiers grasp, struggle, and
try to push away,
but still continue to crave.
As a soldier goes to leave this world,
there's always those final regrets.
They could be such as the want for
one last cigarette,
one last drink,
one last song,
or even one last intament companion.
Still with different beings,
there are different regrets.
Always one last something,
tangible or not,
something to go away happy,
peaceful minded, blissed, and
*Note: This poem was inspired by Mr. L.A. Meyers who wrote the "Bloody Jack" Series
The Quote of Inspiration: "Trouble is, as a soldier goes to leave this world, he always
has some regrets-- he
still wants one more smoke, one more drink, one more song..." His breathing is becoming
more labored and I
know he is weakenin. "...and one more girl."
I made this to mold any military branch and both females and males.
Thoust message rings,
But it is a wretched beauty.
Sew up thine tongue;
It forks in many directions,
Ensnaring, passing through the centers,
Weaving a thread gleaming, deceivingly white,
Yet drenched in the black goo,
The sticky gobs of our source, our blood.
Cast aside thine needle,
Let time make it blunt.
Wallow in thine sorrow,
But only for a moment.
Up, up with you!
The sticky gobs cannot protect thee.
See me, Hear me.
For I see thee...
Thou hast split thine tongue
To hide, to forget.
Thine forked words, black to all, clear to me.
Go on, go ahead,
Walk through its enveloping black.
And when you cannot run,
And when you can’t do that anymore,
Find someone to carry you.
Thou art strong!
Let thine center give you new feet!
If even thine center falls weary,
I shalt be thine legs.
I shalt carry you, my friend.
For more details, please see my Blog dated 7th April 11
'In India, a new Revolution is in the offing'
A New Hope shown by Anna Hazare in India
A new torch is there in your hands, dear Anna Hazare*,
A torch by which you are waking up the souls
Of millions and millions of our sleeping citizens.
To wake up and to remove the curses created by many of our
Corrupt bureaucrats and down to earth polluted politicians,
Such people inspire only directly or indirectly in my country
Violence, crime, corruption, and greedy coalitions.
No words are sufficient to thank you, O soldier of Gandhi,
As by non-violence, only Gandhi wanted to change the society.
God has given you an opportunity to do something,
O bold soldier
Several hundred thousands are standing with you and
Millions would join your campaign for removing the curse of corruption,
Effecting our country and many countries of the world,
All these are the result of ever-increasing greed and misdeeds of many such bureaucrats and politicians,
Such people are ruining many countries of the world by their
Ever increasing lustful temptations for money and greed for power and pelf.
In an era when the world is facing its new Renaissance of knowledge and awakening,
We salute your guts and efforts to bring a wind of change in my country.
Just keep walking with the torch of courage and hopes you have lighted,
As millions and millions more are waiting to join your efforts or
Waiting to start a campaign like this in every country,
As all the nations of the world are facing the tortures created by unworthy bureaucrats
Keep the torch high to light up the nation with a new light,
Our dear soldier Anna Hazare.
Kanpur India 08th April 2011
Anna Hazare* . Anna Hazare is a 73 years old man and one of India's
well-acclaimed social activists. A former soldier in the Indian army,
Anna is well known and respected for upgrading the ecology and
economy of the village of Ralegan Siddhi which is located in the
drought prone Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra state
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
as the hypocrite talking head
seeking re-election in 2012
tells us all that this empire (which continues to wield its
sledge hammer upon the world)
this “land of the free”
(who demands that all others follow in its
is one which “unlike the old empires,”
does not force its will upon the people of this planet
“for territory or resources,”
a soldier watching
shoves their finger down their throat
forcing themselves to vomit up the
utterly visceral disgust
which accompanies the knowledge that
s/he has taken part in making Iraq
the soldier is coming home to a country
whose chose the spending of money on
bashing Afghanistan & Iraq
to be more important than providing employment,
affordable housing or
a decent education system
to its own citizens---
instead we have taken pleasure in killing those abroad
so that they will be forced to be like us---
so that one day they can have
no health care,
no affordable housing or
a decent education system
(that is, if they don’t already reside in such a state as a
product of our entrance & extraction of all their
resources for use within our borders).
Hark! It is he!
A slate face; devoid!
Mechanical, computing, sleepless.
No! Just human!
Turning, just turning!
He will not fall, now expressionless.
The dark gazeth!
Yet, he wont gaze back!
Four days, sleepless, faceless, for all!
His face is stone.
No care, there's no care!
Persist amidst all of the loss.
It is but he!
designed to be.
It is but he!
Shrug the abyss,
he will nev'r fail;
designed to be.
Shrug the abyss.
Through it all,
he leaveth none for all!
To see the end of it all,
the completion of it all!
None but all.
Four days sleepless,
it is none but he!
Faceless, breathless, mechanized.
Look! See him now!
With bags under eyes.
See him now, the man with no face.
It is he,
Be it so! Be it so!
To see the end of it;
the destruction of it all!
It is he.
He celebrated his enlistment
And proudly showed the pictures of his plane,
A screaming bird emblazoned with the stars
And stripes. He joked about our home fried chicken
And kissed his baby sister, promising
To bring back toys and treats from foreign lands.
He believed in freedom, said that all
The people of the world should have that chance;
The Viet Cong would rue the day
The soldiers of America marched across their land.
They brought him home in pieces,
Shielded in a casket closed, draped
With the flag he bravely served.
We take the roses to his grave,
Red and white and bound with ribbons blue;
We weep, not alone for him,
But for the “huddled masses yearning to breath free,”
And for the valiant efforts that may have been in vain.
Running, after more than you, can hold.
Taking, someone else’s love, and leaving.
Children are fearful of what they’re told.
Can’t you see I’m the one who’s freezing?
I was just a child with a trinket
Never knowing that it’d be, more to me
When you were gone to, too far, from me.
Steady with your hands close to my heart
Never letting our world’s tear us apart
I know, your icicles
I miss the beaches that we played on
You missed the child in your own eyes
Now you’re gone,
But I’m still not here.
Why can’t you wake up
I’m not ready
Please, just take your time, don’t leave now
I can’t fight this world alone.