I sing of arms and of the men and women,
Who forced by fate,
Set sail to distant shores,
And faraway places,
With strange sounding names.
Who are seldom the sons and daughters,
Of the makers of our military missions.
Who, in our name, straddle the earth,
Like a postmodern virtual colossus,
Bringing death and destruction,
To distant enemies seen or presumed.
Who try to be all that they can be,
And hope that it is enough.
Who are self-selected,
And not always eager participants,
In making the world safe,
For free trade and constitutional democracy.
For without them,
How could we extend our American Empire.
And without them,
How could we offer the world,
Peace in our time,
And on our terms.
Stan Salett
November 11, 2002
Mary Wood says
Editor,
Thanks to the author for saying what needs to be said, and so very beautifully. A day with no veterans to grieve over, will it ever come?