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For a Soldier

November 11, 2012 ·

SPIT AND POLISH AT ARLINGTON

Bagpipes cry over mounds of new dirt
Above the hill, bright skies canopy a mourning family
A procession of black cars winds its way to a uniformed sentry
Far off, horses and carriages wait to carry a soldier home

Ashes sit alone surrounded by thousands of silent voices
Gatherers murmur their goodbyes

One but many
One but many

A hundred times a day

Filed Under: home, Poetry

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I wanted a perfect ending. Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle and end.
–Gilda Radner

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