A Dead Soldier’s Kid
Only they know their fate!
The very second that flag hits their trembling hands.
Like the fate of an Army that calls out
” The leader is dead! Our leader is dead!”
Panic sets in!
Your leader is dead.
Your little mother is cast into harms way.
Your brother’s and sister’s souls are slain.
His flag sits empty in a wooden tomb
on a mantle of gloom.
“Will the checks come Mom?” “What wil…l we do?
Dad is gone!”
Your superstar family disappears.
Your big brother’s trophies collect dust
for the leader is dead.
You wake up every day realizing
your a dead soldier’s kid.
No mask! No net!
Hardly known by even the Vets!
Your teachers and friends wonder
what happened to
that kind little boy they once knew.
He died too!
A flag sits in a storage unit in Tacoma, Wa.
I’ve held it often.
My art! My poetry bares his flag.
My heart bares his legacy.
I’m a dead soldier’s kid.
A beautifully told poem about those who have to face life without people they loved. A side of the equation few take into account, very poignant at this time of year.
Thank you Alan. It comes from living it.Peace my friend.