The Tomb Of The Unknown Civilians Poem by Mark Sauer

We honor these boys who never grow old;
We remember them. We tender glory
In trade for their forsaken destiny -
Achilles' choice. For that future they sold,
We pay a marble stone, a flag to fold
In triangle, old men's oratory,
Parades - but most of all, a memory.
Their acts and names endure, and will be told.

But each one leaves behind a vaster hole
Than himself. Never married widows mourn
Each night the unmet lover they cannot name.
They grow old and weep alone, without fame
Or monument; and who dares count the toll
Of those accusing orphans, never born?