Fate of a Marine
Since time began, countless men have asked,
What is the meaning, what is life?s task?
Is it to love, or to play, or to live in good health?
Or obsess over cars, houses, and wealth.
Do we each live life in our own little way?
Or is it all fate, and have we no say?
Well I awoke this ?morn, and said to the mirror,
?This is your life, you decide it right here!?
And so to the parade, I go in my blues,
I balance my cover, and polish my shoes.
The glare of the buttons reflects on the wall,
I puff out my chest, and stand quite tall.
The look of a Marine, determined and proud,
I raise my hand sharply, a salute to the crowd.
But does the crowd know, what fate holds for me,
Or do they just see blue, and forget what may be.
Two years or less, and my blues will be folded,
Stored in a closet, while my fatigues become scolded.
The cover replaced by a thick Kevlar cap,
My crisp sharp salute, now a comrade?s taps.
The crowd will be gone, their faces now faded,
A reminder of what was, a memory serenaded.
The dust and the heat, will bite at my cheeks,
And I?ll clean my rifle, and pray for the weeks.
Someone must do it, go protect the right,
Someone must leave here, and go to the fight.
My grandfather said, ask ?why not me??
And so there I?ll sit, far over the sea.
I won?t have regrets, or wish I was back,
For if I weren?t there, who?d pick up the slack?
Would you go in place, to toy with your fate?
Or sit back at home, and silently wait?
No the time will come, and I will go,
The time will come, and I?ll have to show.
All that I ask for my fate in return,
Is the respect that myself and the others will earn.
Because one day I?ll be back, and I?ll put on my blues,
I?ll balance my cover, and polish my shoes.
My buttons will gleam on the wall once again,
And people will ask me, ?Where have you been??
So I will tell them, I was protecting their rights,
I will tell them of war, and of nightmarish nights.
Maybe then they?ll know, what we have done,
This war we have fought, their safety we?ve won.
Until then I?ll sit back, and listen to laughter,
Of the ignorant people, whose safety we?re after.
It matters not though, to the Marine dressed in blues,
Given the choice, WE know what we?ll choose.
Sempers,
Roger
graphic made by Doug Kidd
|