The greatest generation finally gets their just desserts
The World War II Memorial
at last is finally done.
It calls to mind all those who fought
that freedom might be won.
Between the throne of Abraham
and George’s monument,
the green-wreathed markers represent
the red blood that was spent.
They speak of battles long since waged
on foreign lands and seas
where adolescents came of age
while fighting on their knees.
Those posts of limestone fence the past
and block out needless noise.
In silence grandpas contemplate
the fears they felt as boys.
This ground is holy, temple-like.
It speaks of sacrifice.
It whispers “Peace must be maintained
no matter what the price.”
And so with walkers, canes and limps
old veterans make their way
to reminisce, regroup and count
the cost they had to pay.
They say a prayer and wipe their tears.
Though stooped, they stand up tall.
Within a park that honors them,
they’re heroes one and all.
Most holy God, I pray for these
now old and weak and tired.
Remind them that our nation’s strong
by what they have inspired.
And for those who have long since died,
we think of them today.
May what they modeled live in us
as we clear freedom’s way.