(Photo by Ryan Stone on Unsplashed)
By Lawrence “Mack in Texas” Hall
That we may wander o’er this bloody field
To book our dead, and then to bury them
–Henry V, IV.vii.75-76
Some say this day began
As a memorial to the Confederate dead
Some say this day began
As a memorial to the Union dead
We only know that now it is a memorial for those
Who died for causes far beyond themselves
The glory of our soldiers is in the orphans they fed
The huts they helped repair, the ponchos they gave
To the shivering cold, reassurance to the terrified
Poor comforts to the bombed-out and the dying
The glory of our soldiers
Is not in some strident Man of Destiny
Bellowing fancy words from a prompter screen
But in hungry men who gave their C-rats away
Before they died in some bloody ditch
In their honor, then
Let us quietly work in causes beyond ourselves
And risk being made into sacraments
LogoSophia Magazine 