Let the sounds of freedom
be heard from those that have died,
fighting to keep us safe and secure.
Broken teeth smile; empty sockets shed tears at what they see.
Turned by those twisted tongues of trouble,
Our leaders divide us.
One rises from the room of gloom, "I shall speak for my brothers.
We earned that right fighting death, every fourth we rise
to greet new brothers. Old and new, we stand together,
even when we agree to disagree. In unity, we stand our ground, by choice we died for our children.
Another war is on the horizon.
We hear the angels singing in our graves; dread the darkness as demons hiss.
This inward struggle involves all life.
You'll fight in the ring of freedom, your children with you.
Which side do you choose?
All I ask for me, my brothers agree or disagree,
is to be free from these bonds of earth.
I fought already for freedom.
Now, I seek the light of heaven.
In His hands, I'll place my soul and find peace.
My Father's love is my choice."
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Author Notes
I know it's a different way of writing for the Fouth of July, but we wouldn't have a celebration if it wasn't for their sacrafice. The words just came. I thought hard, but they have a right to be heard. I wasn't going to post it, but my brothers' voices call. Crazy ain't it?
22 lines.
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