They stand still as granite
formed upon this field of rest
In silent task, They lay with the rest
the best that any brother could ask.
Oh, these stones
The wretched and refined,
The humbled and denied,
Were these rested souls.
Facing fear with honor,
Not for fame or stardom.
Living off the precision
Of split-second decisions
Until death claimed his chosen
Without warning,
Never a vote
And no prior
notice
What grows in
this garden of stones?
My pride as I reminisce
While walking again
On this field of
Ghosts.
I can finally smile in this moment as
I see my brothers, at their
Coming down like angels
To more one final task
But
Behind them followed hell
And the wings were
Upon their chest
What grows in
this garden of stones?
My fears, tears, all
I hold dear,
And the bravest men
I’ve ever known
In closing, I hope you had a great memorial day
I am proud to be able to have walked with
The very reasons that I can sit here and enjoy mine
-Bryan “Gannicus” Myers-
______________________
This first appeared in The Havok Journal on June 7, 2019.
This first appeared in The Havok Journal on June 7, 2019.
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