He was that tiny baby, who stared in bright-eyed wonder;

 

into his mother’s eyes, the blanket of security that he was under.

 

He was that three foot toddler, who let you have it;

 

when he asked his Daddy, if you were pregnant.

 

He was that neighbor-boy, who was always into something;

 

he pulled your flowers, and sent your hubcaps sailing.

 

He was that kid, who threw gum in your hair because he secretly liked you;

 

what he never knew, is that you liked him too.

 

He was the one, who sped through your neighborhood;

 

a new license and Mustang, life was too good.

 

He was that boy, whose name you can’t recall;

 

who helped you at the grocery, carried your bags and all.

 

He was that son, who made his parents cry;

 

when off to war he went, little time for goodbyes.

 

He was that young man, who always made you smile;

 

you wonder what became of him, you haven’t seen him in a while.

 

He was that boy, who became that man;

 

in a distant battlefield, that was full of sand.

 

He was that guy, whose letters came less and less;

 

the images too horrific, pen to paper he could not press.

 

He was one of those, that you heard on the news;

 

who was patrolling downtown Baghdad, when the enemy lit the fuse.

 

That boy you used to know, whose face you can’t remember;

 

bled out on a dirty street, this past May or maybe it was September.

 

That kid who meant so little to many, yet so much to a few;

 

his life was cut short, and it was still very new.

 

That boy who used to be in your life, and whose fate you will not allow;

 

Oh him, that guy. He’s gone now.

 

 ----------------------

 

When I first wrote this poem, I was in a mood that I have yet to identify. I believe that I was having a range of emotions at the current time, from happiness to anger to sorrow and everything in between, because of this war. I have little doubt that my readers will have a similar reaction to it. I did not post it to offend anyone, the message in the poem is clear to me but may not to many others:

 

Many of my fellow Americans feel that this war is distant, that it concerns them none. Heck, they don’t even know anyone in the service or haven’t even had a family member in the service in all of the generations. This poem shows them that they have known someone in the service, whether they realize it or not.

 

Another message is to make it clear the sacrifices that troops and their families are making on a daily basis, and to hold them in the up-most respect at all times. The reality of war is ugly, and I’ve always been a direct kind of guy, so there you have it. Have faith in the mission and in your troops.

 

 

Posted with permission by Brandon White