You are gone now.

Few will recall the everyday of you,

The waking and working and eating and loving.

The child to teen to young man,

The rebellious churl, or mama’s boy, or lost one, or the one handy with tools or the studious one.

They will remember the courage melded with fear

Or the mundane day to day of regimentation

Or the simplicity of doing what you are told when you are told

And the commitment to do what needed to be done.

A dirty job for everyday men to rest upon their shoulders

For no other reason than it had to be done by someone so why not you.

Whether you perished in violence or gently at home in your bed after the waking nightmare,

I bow my head to respect you for what you had to do

And to thank you for doing what I did not have to do.

This entry was posted in Poetry by bgm1969. Bookmark the permalink.

About bgm1969

This blog is updated by a guy who’s overweight, silly, Liberal, spiritual rather than religious, infatuated with beauty and grace, musically blessed, and always changing.

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