My daughter Faith wrote the following poem for her English class.
"Soldier
I am a soldier.
I am back on the fields, artillery firing all around me.
I am looking around, bodies lying dead, wounded. Still, men crying to go home ... a strange sight.
I look to see my brother wounded, reaching out for me, wanting me to hold him.
I run to him, I kneel to take him in my arms.
He's cold and still. He's dead....
I am a soldier.
The poem moved me. It reminded me of my late friend Andrew.
When are we bringing our boys and girls home?
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