The Veteran

I was browsing through poetry I wrote in  years past and found this one from 2003.  My kids were just little then, Emily was almost a year old and Matt had just turned three.  We were living in Carson City, Nevada at the time and I had a moment that really impacted me.  I cleaned-up the poem but I'm still going to do a final revision, there are some places that don't read as smooth as I would like.  Anyway, I thought this would be a good post for this time of year.

The Veteran

-2003-

Wearing a decorated vest spotted with remnants from the past,

 the veteran proudly mans the unassuming table

decorated with crisp red, white and blue flags

framing the collection of

paper-wire poppies in the entrance of the grocery

store on November 11th.

With eyes crinkling and a smile spreading over

his furrowed face, he watches my children giggling

hysterically in the truck attachment

of the brightly colored grocery cart as we

rattle into the store.

“What beautiful children”, he said kindly as his fingers shook

with the soft tremors of age.

Looking at him I smile, suddenly noting

marks of time etched over his face, like a map

revealing a lifetime of  joy, heartache and courage.

Suddenly, I was overcome with gratitude

for this proud, old veteran.

Because of men like him, other mothers have the freedom

to take their laughing children

to the store, to the park, to school…

Because of him and all those who have served,

I have freedoms unimaginable,  

all the opportunities I could ever want,

all the power to act, think and speak as I please.

Tasting the inadequacy of the word stuck in my

mouth, lower lip trembling,  I whispered,

“Thank you for your service to our country.”

I saw a shadow stealing across his face as he haltingly replied,

“Served in Korea…wasn’t easy…God bless you, ma’am.”

Our eyes met and a stillness stretched as patting my hand, he

handed brilliantly red poppies to my children.

Strolling the cart towards the produce, I thought about these

brave men, these veterans.  Giving so much, preserving freedom,

asking nothing in return but my thanks and

my remembrance.

God Bless You, Sir.