Those Who Serve and Those Who Wait

Standing tall and strong,
he protects a loving family
as the battle still rages on.
Protector of safety and unity,
he knows right from wrong;
bastion of the land of the free.
He is an American warrior,
soldier, fighter, and much more.

He risked all up on Bunker Hill
and on cold Roberts Ridge too.
He trudged through Bataan’s hell,
nearly died in Pacific waters blue.
His red blood will always spill
from his American heart so true.
He is an American warrior,
soldier, fighter, and much more.

While he stands in harm’s way
back at home his mother cries,
asks the Lord’s guidance each day.
Today she baked his favorite pies,
and looked at her Christmas display,
sadness and longing in her eyes.
He is an American warrior,
soldier, son, and much more.

The soldier’s home is in another state;
his wife and children, on an army post.
This holiday season, they too wait.
Snow falls all along the Atlantic coast.
In the season to snuggle with a mate,
he is far away, a foreign land his host.
He is an American warrior,
father, husband, and much more.

Standing tall and strong,
he protects a loving family
as the battle still rages on.
Protector of safety and unity,
he knows right from wrong;
bastion of the land of the free.
He is an American warrior,
soldier, fighter, and much more.

_____________________________

Lou Marin is a writer, photographer, and historian for The American Legion, Department of Maine. Born and raised in western Maine, he spent more than 20 years in the United States Air Force. He is a published poet and short story writer whose work for The Havok Journal is largely poetry and reflective writing on military service, remembrance, and faith. He is also a stringer for Maine Trust for Local News, the author of Dimly Seen Through the Mists and My Lighthouse in Troubled Times, and a resident of Rumford, Maine. He can be reached at mbsphotog@yahoo.com or his Facebook Page.

As the Voice of the Veteran Community, The Havok Journal seeks to publish a variety of perspectives on a number of sensitive subjects. Unless specifically noted otherwise, nothing we publish is an official point of view of The Havok Journal or any part of the U.S. government.