Sister's of Honor
What drew them together on this sacred, hallowed ground?
Was it the war fought in Asia with its heartbreak so profound?
Perhaps it was the cries of young men with wounds that ran so deep, or the countless hours of giving with no rest, and little sleep.
Maybe it was the reminder of icy rains that often fell or the thunder in emerald mountains of artillery, and of shell.
Was it the flicker of dancing flare lights on summer's darkened sky?
Or the sliver tips of eagle's wings as jets go screaming by.
What drew them together a voice in trembling pain?
Or the hollow eyes of some soldier in death's final strain.
I know they must remember the choppers coming in, the chaos of shouted orders and the race they try to win.
What brings them together through terror and lingering strife?
Why, to heal the shattered bodies, to save one soldiers life.
When they came home no bugle sounded sweetly, no voices raised to cheer, there was only an emptiness, memories, and tears.
Three bronze sisters now stand upon the mall, in honor of America's daughters and the names upon the wall.
What drew them together upon this sacred, hallowed ground?
It was a war fought in Asia, with its heartbreak so profound.
(C) Jack C. Perritt
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