Not Just a Soldier

I pull into the wooded area, marked with a sign With tear-filled eyes, I find what was once mine Chills run down my spine as my car slows to a stop I glance to my left and my stomach drops I see the old gravestone then, blanketed in dirt The icy wind starts to blow my long black skirt My skin looks pale next to my crimson lips I reach down and touch his stone, cold on my fingertips I’ve tried to stay resilient; tried to stay strong Staying away from my memories for far too long But my yearning for him is replaced by questions and fear Why have you left me lonely, my dear? What’s going to happen to our baby Brooklyn Mae? Who’s going so lead her down the wedding isle someday? These questions plague me as I kneel wilted next to his grave I remember those lyrics, “In the home of the brave” It brings me back to that evening, when my phone rang And at his funeral, the National Anthem they sang I start to weep as I remember his face I always looked for fear, but there was never a trace. He always stood strong, devoted, and ready to die for people like me, And for thousands of people who assume freedom is free This freedom we take for granted, he paid for with his life, And like many fallen soldiers, we live because they died.