A Soldier's Sacrifice Poem by Stephen Sherbin II

From nation to nation,
On land, sea, air they fight,
Against terrible tyrant’s might,
Deaf to evil trickster’s plights,
To keep our homeland’s safety and rights,
The soldier, the knight, giving them honor is right.

Listen to me, you hear, you see,
The stories of the men who’ve died
For me, for you they take the hit, the stab, the cannonball,
In the name of Honor, Justice, and Love for all,
Their nation, their family, the world in all.

These soldiers crawl through mud and muck,
Climb giant, jagged cliffs,
Run in soft sand deserts,
Tread through snow and sleep in holes.
Wherever they are called to they will go,
Without so much as a disgruntled groan.

Perhaps you are not hearing me clearly,
So close your eyes and maybe you can see,
The tan sand on the rough street of a Middle Eastern city,
Where walls are broken with bullet holes,
And the faces of the city try to hide the fear they live in.
And the only thing more fierce than those you protect the city from,
Is the dry, hot sun, beating down upon you.
And as you stand on the tan painted, searing hot steel bed of the transport truck,
Handing out supplies to the crowd of the thirsty villagers,
You hear a yell, thunderous blast,
And a thud, as the body of the soldier standing next to you falls to the ground,
You hear the “twangs” and “tirps” and “ratataps” of guns,
To the left and right, and above on the roof tops,
You scramble for the nearest cover,
Before the crowd runs you over.
And when you duck under cover next to your sergeant and new brothers,
You hear those words of long ago in all their glory,
And your legs take flight, it’s time to fight,
Time to let destiny unfold,
Time for your story to be told,
Bullets whizzing by,
Bombs and explosions on right,
Roaring jets fly by saving your lives,
And the enemy is gone,
But so are the lives of 5 American soldiers,
And 16 innocent civilians.
Safety and freedom is not free, it comes with a horrendous price.

Open your eyes, you’re home, wounded in battle,
You’ve sacrificed your arm,
But there is no hero parade for you, just pain, and heartache.
You go to your closest friend’s funeral,
And as you approach there are two crowds there,
One of the heartbroken family and friends of this brave soldier,
But the larger of the two is full of loud, sign waiving protesters,
And what’s worse are the things they scream out,
“That solider is a MURDERER! He got what he deserved! ”

He died protecting their lives and their rights to stand up for what they believe in,
But who will stand up for him?

© 2009 Stephen Sherbin II