A lot has been on my mind of late,
Concerning Life, Choices, and of Fate,
Paths not taken, Regret’s crushing weight.
And though I’ve tried to just let it go,
each day offers a bit more ammo,
allowing tormenting thoughts to grow.
Like these things do, it came to a head,
one night I found no comfort in bed,
With a bottle of whiskey, I fled
Into the night, not sure of my way,
Knowing only that I could not stay
and listen to what my doubts would say,
As I stumbled out into the night,
Staggering beyond the City’s light,
I found myself awash in moonlight.
Comforted by the moon’s silver glow,
I stumbled along, steady and slow,
my whiskey continuing to flow.
I found myself in a field of stone.
Newer ones polished until they shone,
Older ones abandoned, on their own…
I paused at a slightly tilted one,
Weeds all around, almost overrun.
Corporal Long, Died in World War One.
A mere boy, nineteen, still in his youth.
I sat on his grave, drunk and uncouth,
Slurring my words, asking for a truth.
Then I poured him a shot of my drink,
gave my bottle to his stone to clink,
then sat back against his stone to think.
Then I saw the most curious sight,
a sober man would have taken flight!
before me rose a small ball of light!
Before I could shout out in surprise,
at the scene playing before my eyes,
the small orb halted its rapid rise.
Quick as a flash, it took a new form:
A Boy stood there in Dress Uniform,
I then shivered though the night was warm.
He looked at me with curious eyes,
and then to the bottle at my side,
He motioned to pour: I poured it dry.
He gave me a smile, his face aglow,
“Fine libation, you chose to bestow!
Now, sir, what is it you wish to know?”
“What is it like, sir, to know glory?”
His face turning sad, he sat before me,
and almost whispered out his story.
“Born and raised in our dear Hoosier State,
Too young for the war, I had to wait,
my thirst for glory would not abate.
Many a night I would lay and dream,
Of guns, and swords, bayonets agleam,
of medals, honor, and high esteem!
I turned of age, and rushed to enlist,
saluted my Pa, gave Ma a kiss,
then deployed overseas to assist.”
He looked at the stone behind my back,
words nearly faded, stone chipped and cracked,
above a faded engraved lilac.
“I died over there, you may have guessed.
Took a Kraut Bullet right to the chest.
It broke Ma’s heart to lay me to rest.
There is no glory in what I sought,
I was handed a gun and I fought.
And why I joined? It was all for naught.
Sure they will speak highly of your name,
and for a spell will hold you in fame,
give you medals, but it aint the same.
Soon enough, their memories will fade,
of who you are, and the price you paid,
what you fought for…and where you are laid.
Soon enough they will always forget,
no human eye will ever stay wet,
for souls caught in the War Reaper’s net.”
He turned to me, and shook he shook his head.
“I dreamt of glory, and now I’m dead,
My dreams died with me, and share this bed.”
“But you served and died a hero’s death!
You gave it all, even your last breath!
You loved your nation more than yourself!”
With that, he gave a sigh and he stood.
“Now you listen, and you listen good:
If I could change what happened, I would!
“I should have worked hard till I could buy
that little piece of farmland nearby
and made me a life before I died.
Maybe found myself a loving wife,
raise us some children, no less than five,
and see what they accomplish with life.
There is no glory among the dead,
their only reward is the grave bed.
Just ignore what is otherwise said.
For everything that you do in war,
has all been done countless times before,
and when you’re gone, will be done some more.
My advice is simple, my good man,
Stay a civilian, long as you can,
Embrace the fullness of your life span!
Fight, should the necessity arise,
but don’t throw away your precious life
chasing war’s glory, and other lies.
As I watched him, his glow grew dimmer,
returned to an orb and its shimmer,
Till he disappeared altogether.
Just briefly, I continue to lay
Still stunned, and now sober as day
before I stood and went on my way.
As I walked home, I felt calm inside,
the conflicting feelings swept aside,
New focus from an unlikely guide.
Now, weekly, it is my solemn deed
To pour him a shot, and pull up weeds
Honoring the aid shown in my need.
~x~
