Tuesday, September 11, 2007

The Crying Chair

You sat, broken, there
in your antique rocking chair
bitter tears spilling everywhere


You cried for lost children
for lost women and men
We all cried daily, over them


You remembered the day
like so many your age
when they took your heart away


You couldn't sleep
you couldn't eat
you could only taste defeat


You wouldn't hear me
say, "please, turn off the t.v."
If it were only quite so easy


You withered, went cold inside
the last of your innocence died
left, untouched, was our pride


You could not forget, nor could we
then you became part of the tragedy
you began to slip away, gradually

You now have your name saved
upon the back of your husband's grave
etched with many of our nation's brave

You are at rest while we go on
clinging to what we've built upon
Like all those lost, you will never be gone.

2 comments:

pat said...

Beautifully written, Kris.

neicybelle said...

wow...thank you...