Tids for a Memorial Day 2015
Issue 3,343
Mine eyes have seen
the glory of the coming of the lord.
He has loosed the fateful lightening of his terrible swift
sword.
I have seen him in the watchfires of a hundred circling
camps;
They have builded him an altar in the evening dews and
damps;
I can read his righteous sentence by the dim and flaring
lamps.
I have read a fiery Gospel, writ in burnished steel.
In the beauty of the lilies, Christ was born across the sea,
With a Glory in his bosom that transfigures you and me;
He died to make men Holy, let us die to make men free.
America is marching on.
So sad are the wars,
that seem must always be.
So horrid are the scars that liberate you and me.
I feel the crying of my heart when I ever see
The passing of that folded flag, neith a shading tree.
Yet, the sun glows brightly on heroes now with thee
The men, the women who keep this land free.
Oh how do you write
about war, ugly bloody battles that are so final for so many, yet so
liberating for many more. Why must we always be shedding tears? Why are despots
allowed to roam? Why can’t all feel the depth of love from the one God, no
matter which prophets they seek to guide them? I shudder as I write words
today. Because all people were born, I feel, with hearts that are good. When do
they become blackened with hate, or greyed with envy? What other wars can we
fight to keep love growing within all peoples? I shed tears for those eternally wounded who
deter the misbegotten. I shed tears for the parents who have beautiful memories
but will never feel the comforting arms. I shed tears for wives and husbands
and loved ones left to think what could have, should have been. I shed tears
for little children who will always wonder, about mom, about or dad – who must
grow into life upon images alone.
And the music rises
to a crescendo, “And God is marching on.
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