(This is not about Obamacare, Wall Street, Human Rights, Fidel Castro, Or Hugo Chavez)
This is not the soldier
here in this plastic bag holding
a piece here, another there,
tossed into Hefty, stuffed in a
flag draped furniture box, sent
home so Mom and Dad might
have something to remember.
Buried in a sea of crosses, Stars
of David and myriad gods, man-made
holy arms to hold that which cannot
be held, wilting flowers, dying like
the blush of youth, sacrificed for useless
causes, for we never remember this one
fact; they died so that no one else had to.
But we send them back again and again
human lives too short for history,
which will always repeat
as long as there are still innocents born.
Read more: http://www.myspace.com/ninelivesandmore/blog#ixzz0xcxFs2eP
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