Wow...that blew me away.
My Heroes
(c) Tricia Goyer
I passed you on the street,
And did not know.
You are my grandfather,
My father,
My uncle,
And I did not ask.
I saw weak eyes,
Shaky hands,
Unsure steps.
Not realizing that inside was a warrior's heart.
Tell me it is not too late, to thank you.
To applaud you.
Tell me it is not too late, to listen.
For your eyes have seen things,
Of soldiers and men.
And those hands,
Fought strong until they grasped freedom's prize.
Those footsteps, steady and strong,
Once moved forward, facing death.
Realizing the cause was too great,
To stand and do nothing.
I will ask now.
And I will listen.
The warrior's voice may tremble,
His eyes may tear.
But his stories will not be forgotten.
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3 comments:
Thanks, Tricia, for caring and sharing. My grandfather was also a WWII vet and retired military. He had the onset of dementia when September 11th happened, and he told my grandmother to get out his uniform for he would have to go back to war. He was ready to do so at age 70-something to protect our nation. Our veterans are such special people. With the passing of the WWII vets, we are seeing the passing of a great generation. I hope we will raise up new heroes to take their places.
Beautiful poem. I'm sorry for your loss. The men and women that lived during WW2 aren't called the Greatest Generation for nothing. My prayers are with you.
Lovely poem,deeply sorry about your loss
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